Pleasantly Depressed
by Skandranon
Summary: Irvine was doing just fine and dandy, engaged to his darling Selphie, until he walked in on Squall attempting suicide. Adult themes, violence, a good helping of cussing, some sex scenes, and a moomba kitten named Grrface. Irvine x Squall yaoi.
1. Ch 1 Of Whiskey and Rings

Title: Pleasantly Depressed

Author: Skandranon email: Final Fantasy VIII

Rating: MA+ (PG13)

Ongoing WIP (First 3 Chapters)

Classifications: Citrus, Slash, some Humor, Epic

Warnings: Shonen-Ai, some Alcohol-abuse, Angst, Drug abuse, Spoilers, Suicidal themes (attempted suicide)

Pairings: Irvine/Squall, some Irvine/Selphie

Authors Notes: Set after the game. According to this story, Irvine acts and dresses like a cowboy because he was adopted by a ranch owner. I can't remember whether he said he was adopted or not, so this might be AU. Squall is a poor widdle depwessed boy, don't you just want to huggle him and make it better?

Summary: While Squall sinks into depression after Rinoa dumps him, Irvine tries to figure out why he's not happy being engaged to Selphie.

* * *

Chapter 1 – Of Whiskey and Rings

* * *

The floors of Balamb Garden's ballroom, made of rose marble from the mines of Centra and elm granite from the Shumi caves, were polished until the shine could provide as a primary light source. The surface was almost too smooth to dance on, especially in heels. Overhead, glorious columns of brilliant blue lazuli stone from Esthar and white snowslate from Dollet, adorned with lush vegetation, rich and exotic plants from deep in the jungles that seemed to be tiny rainbows when their flowers were in bloom, towered gracefully above graceful dancers. Echoing from times past, the silent songs played on.

There was no dance this night, no whirling and spinning to the steps of the latest popular waltz. No blooming fireworks to be had, no laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls, no Rinoa with her simple smile beckoning him to join her.

No Rinoa.

The sun had set some time ago, the warm light fading from the barren room and from his skin, like it had from his life. _Because we all know how much Squall Leonhart's life sucks, just like him. Who is I. I suck, you suck, we suck, thou shalt sucketh._

_You're babbling again,_ the winter wind whispered through his mind, icy tendrils stroking his veins.

_Sorry._ He groped for the nearest bottle and, finding one with a few mouthfuls left, sloshed it down, wincing as it stung at the back of his throat. He didn't know what kind of alcohol it was, but judging that he got it from Irvine's room, it was probably whiskey. _But it's true. I'm a miserable excuse for a human being. Why else would she leave me?_

The ice and bitter chill stirred in his thoughts. _It's not your fault that she left. Personally, I always thought she was a bitch._

He chuckled bitterly, but anyone who might have been listening wouldn't have been able to recognize the coughing wheeze as a laugh. _Then you should have told me that before I went and gave my heart to her._

_You wouldn't have listened anyways. Always racing towards the horizon._

The bottle was now completely empty, offering no further relief from the thoughts that ripped him up inside. He chucked it to spin across the tiles, gaining some small solace from the satisfying tinkling it made as it shattered against the far wall. _Is it so wrong for me to... want somebody?_

_Of course not, love. They're fools for not seeing what you have inside you._

He smirked. _I have you inside me._

_Besides me._

_Bahamut?_

Bahamut stirred at his name, but once he was sure there was no battle occurring, he returned to slumber.

_Oh do stop that. You know exactly what I mean. You're not as dumb as you often make yourself out to be. You're such a wonderful person, if a bit stubborn, and brash, and temperamental, and-_

_Quit it._

_-and you deserve everything you want._

He sighed at that, bumping his head against the wall and ignoring the pain from the act. _All I want is…_

_I know, dear._

_But you're wrong. There's got to be something drastically screwed up with me, or they wouldn't have left. Is it because I don't talk much? Is that so bad?_

_They? Who… oh Squall, don't tell me you're adding her to the list._

It was getting to be too much, and he forced his eyes shut. _Of course I'm adding her to the list. She left, didn't she?_

_Squall…_

Just when he thought the night's apathetic misery couldn't get much worse, his demented subconscious decided that it was time to recite the list. He was too deep in the depressive moment to care, so he began. _My mother left first… not her fault, of course…_

_Of course. Squall, please don't._

He ignored her, some part of him delighting in the emotional agony. _I remember my father, the first time I met him. They say you can't remember things from that young an age, but I guess that when I got all my memories back after Time Compression, I really got ALL of them back. I remember the look on his face…_

_…Squall, don't…_

_He had such pain in his eyes. As if it hurt him to even look at me. Losing Raine had been too much for him, and he couldn't stand anything that reminded him of her. Even me._

_Squall, you're going to make yourself sick again…_

_So he gave me to Kiros. I remember Kiros, he was such a nice guy. Always smiled whenever I made a mess, and just cleaned it up. Never got mad at me. Ellone was there too; she was so gentle when she rocked me. I remember, when I learned to talk I called them "Kyos" and "Wone"._

Shiva knew where this was heading, and stroked his mind faintly.

_Then they took me to the orphanage. I remember the boat that took us there. I thought it was so wonderful to be on a boat, with the foaming water and the whipping wind, and the sun in your eyes as the horizon flies closer. I've loved them ever since. And the orphanage, it was so pretty, with flowers everywhere, in every color I never knew existed. The air smelled like them all the time…_

He could still smell them, if he closed his eyes and imagined.

_…and Kiros set me down on the ground, and Laguna talked to a fat man and a slim lady in black who smiled at me with pity in her eyes. Ellone was crying, and I didn't know why. I picked a flower and gave it to her, thinking it might make her feel better, but she just cried more. Then Kiros picked me up and hugged me, and set me down again, and Laguna looked at me with those sad eyes and said nothing, and Ward patted me gently on the head, and they went back to the boat and left us on the shore._

_Squall, you're drunk, let's not do this…_

_When I realized they were leaving, I ran after them, tried to stop them. That was the first time I got this pain in my chest. It hurt so much, but all I was thinking at the time was that they couldn't leave Ellone; they loved Ellone, right? I chased after them, and almost made it to the boat before Matron scooped me up, all thetime screaming for "Kyos" to come back._

The goddess of the frost gave him the equivalent of a mental hug, and said nothing. She had heard this all before, and knew that her boy wasn't going to stop until the end.

_I stayed at the orphanage with Ellone after that. She would always tell me that one day they would come back and get us, but I knew it to be a lie. They might one day come back to get her, but I would get left behind. On the nights where Ellone would have me pray for them to return for us, I would pray that it never happen. She was all I had in the world now, and I didn't want to lose her too. She was the one who gave you to me, when she found you nestled inside of my griever necklace. She thought you could fight off the monsters in my nightmares. She was so good to me._

_Yes, she was. I remember her fondly._

_Yeah. I grew to love her too, came to spend all my time with her. In my six year old eyes, she was the sweetest, most perfect person in the world. I could never care about myself if I knew she was sad. Remember the time we tried climbing that tree to get those apples? Both fell and hurt our legs. She was in so much pain, that I didn't even notice my own leg until I had helped carry her back to the orphanage._

_I remember when that happened. She sprained her ankle, and you broke yours. You had crutches for weeks._

_Then the day I saw sails on the horizon. I knew. Right away, I knew they were coming for her. And they did. And despite all the times she assured me we would always be together, despite all the times she promised that when they came, they would take me too, despite all that, they still left me on the shore, watching them sail away with her._

_But you never gave up hope that she would come back._

_No, she promised that she would. All her previous promises had been proven false, but I still clung to hope. The day they took her, it had been raining, so in the strange ways of a child I rationalized that the day she returned would be rainy too. Every thunderstorm I would sneak out and stand near the beach, watching the horizon and hoping that today would be the day she came back to me._

_And she never did._

_No, she couldn't. I know that now, and I never held it against her. I still loved her._

_I know._

_After that, I had no one to hold at night. I tried to make friends with the other children, but they never wanted to play with the boy that didn't talk. You have to make sound effects if you want to play "War". You have to make car sounds if you want to play with cars, and you have to sing to your teddy mogs, and talk to your dolls. So I got left out, and they were too young to realize what that did to me, how much pain they innocently put me through._

_They were brats anyway._

_Shiva! I live and fight and die beside those brats. They could hate and despise me, and I would still care._

_You could love your worst enemy. You did, for that matter._

_We're not to that part yet. Let me finish. So I tried to adore Matron. I guess I had this insane notion that if I loved someone, maybe they would love me too. But it never worked. Matron was too busy and had too many kids to look after to spare me the time I needed. And when she sent us all to the Gardens, I lost her too._

_And you turned to Seifer._

_Yes, despite all his insults and taunts, he was the only one that paid attention to me. I was desperate for that now, and I figured, since I couldn't be loved or cared about, at least I could be hated._

_You thought you deserved it._

_All right, I thought I deserved it. And it was still a step up from being ignored. At least Seifer took the time to notice my existence, to care that I was alive. _His fingers unconsciously wrapped around the medallion dangling on his chest, stroking it absently. _Zell sometimes tried to be my friend, but he would get bored or distracted and turn away. So I put up with Seifer's teasing and fighting, and as time passed I came to appreciate having him around. At least I had someone to not-talk to._

_I keep telling you to learn sign language._

_Stop interrupting. Where was I._

_Seifer._

_So I hung out with him, even though it hurt that he didn't like me. I think I cracked for a moment the day he gave me my scar. I was furious, and kept thinking, How could he do this to me? If I hadn't been so angry, I would never have struck back. I think he's proud that he got me to._

_Seifer the masochist._

_Whatever. But that didn't last too long. Edea took him away from me too, and then I was really alone._

_But you had Zell, Selphie, and Quistis then. And __Irvine__ later._

_Right, the Orphanage Gang back together. Big whoop. They got bored with me as easily as they did when they were little. "Tell us about your feelings, Squall", "What do you think, Squall?" But as soon as I tried, they stopped listening. They didn't want to hear about my problems, and why would they? It's not as if I'm important or anything._

The pain in his chest had been building all the time, and now was making it slightly hard to breathe.

_Squall, maybe you should stop. If you pass out again, Kadowaki's going to put you on mandatory vacation leave._

_I'll be fine. Not dead yet. _He paused to muse on the pain, which tore within him as if his heart was a beast trying to claw its way out. _You know, I always associated this pain with love. Or the lack thereof, rather. I always assumed that if I was ever loved, truly loved by somebody, the pain would go away._

_…I love you, Squall._

He found himself cringing at that. _I know you do, Shiva. I love you too. And I don't know why I can't be happy with that love. I'm too cruel to you. You deserve someone who can appreciate you._

_I'm perfectly happy where I am, thank you. And if you even think about junctioning me to someone else, that person'll be a solid block of ice for months._

_Thanks. I just… wish that it was enough. It's more than some people get, anyway. Why is it that I'm so desperate, and can't be content with just you?_

_I'm a Guardian Force, Squall. Your heart knows that, and tries to find comfort from one of your own kind. And I sincerely hope that you do find it. But you'll always have me at your side, no matter what._

_…I know. Thank you._

_Now let's move onto the Rinoa bitch so that we can get this misery fest over with._

Squall groaned and thumped his head against the wall. _Thanks for reminding me. Rinoa Heartilly, the one who got me to hope again, then royally screwed me over. I suck._

_Let's not start that again._

_Fine. When Rinoa came along, I was pretty much through with love. I'd rather live my entire life without it, than find another person to fall in love with who wouldn't feel the same. But Rinoa kept pushing me. "Dance with me", "Talk to me", "Smile for me". I couldn't say no to her, and some part of me didn't want to say it. And I loved her, I really did._

_The last ditch effort of a drowning man._

_I am _not _a drowning man. I'm just depressed._

_Maniacally so._

_Knock it off. I did love her. I still do. That's the problem. She's another mark on the tally of people I love who won't even look at me. And it still hurts that she ran off with Zone. Is he cuter than me?_

_He's butt ugly. Whatever gave you the impression he was cuter?_

_…That's what Rinoa said. Maybe his personality?_

_Or maybe she's a bitch and doesn't know a wonderful man when she sees one._

_Stop calling the woman I love a bitch._

_Squall, she doesn't deserve you. Maybe I'm biased, but you deserve much more. Someone who sees your inner strength, who sees past the façade you put on for everyone. Someone who'll love you._

Squall sighed to the world, but the world wasn't listening. "Where am I supposed to find someone like that?"

* * *

Hyne, help me. I'm not sure I'm going to live through this. 

It wasn't the expensiveness of the restaurant that did it. It wasn't the elegant diners, or the snooty matre d', or even the glamorous blue dress Selphie was wearing.

It was the folded napkins.

Trying to get a grip on his sanity, he politely pointed to the monsters. "Those do not need to be folded."

Selphie rolled her eyes and glanced around to make sure no one had heard him. "It's a fancy restaurant, Irvine, of course the napkins are going to be folded. Just don't order anything by the name of fois gras and you'll be fine."

Irvine nodded silently, pretending to accept her explanation. He took the napkin, unfolded it, placed it on his knee, and fidgeted with it. Within five minutes he had neatly shredded it into quarter-sized squares. Not knowing what to do with the scraps, he put them in the extra cup he seemed to have.

Selphie's eyes widened. "Um, Irvine honey, that was a cloth napkin."

Oh, so it was. "Um, sorry babe, I'll just… put those in my pocket. Nobody'll notice." He did so, trying to make it look natural and not as if he had made a huge social blunder. Light and thunder, he was so nervous he could spit bullets.

_You know why you're doing this. You really care about her. She's not like other girls. She's sweet, and beautiful, and smart, and full of life and laughter, and she makes you feel all fuzzy inside, in a non-sex way. Not that the sex wasn't good. As good as it gets, anyways. Ah, bloody iguions, I'm just talking myself out of it._

Once upon a time he had had one of those "life changing monumental decision" things. There had been two paths before him, and he could only choose one. He had chosen, and had taken what he got, but sometimes he found himself wondering what life might have been like if he had chosen the other route. No, he would remind himself, you chose this life, and there's no going back.

_Okay, here's the plan: buy her expensive champagne, let her eat and get a little tipsy, then I do it, and pray she doesn't squeal._

Supper went by quietly, and though Selphie refused to tell him what his "kalamahree" was made out of, he quite enjoyed it. As things were winding down, he started psyching himself up. _You can do this. You're a lean, mean, smooth-talking machine. Just go through the steps you memorized, and you'll be fine. She's gonna say yes, you know she's gonna say yes._

So why did part of him hope she'd say no?

Finally he decided it was time. _Right.__ Step one: Get down on one knee next to her chair._ That proved to be easy, though the cloth squares fell out of his pocket when he did so. _Ignore that, it's just a fluke. Step two: get the box out of your pocket... why is it not in my pocket?! _While Selphie looked at him strangely, he fumbled through all of his pockets, trying to remember where he put it. _It's gotta be in… no, I checked that one already…maybe…oh right, it's in my bag._ Reaching around behind him, he grabbed his satchel and rooted through it while Selphie hissed for him to get off the floor.

Aha! Box retrieved. _Step three: Take her hand._ This was a bit trying, since she kept dodging his attempts. Finally he decided to just skip to the next part. _Step four: Say the speech…oh shit, don't tell me I forgot the speech. Come on, come on…turn, brain gears, turn!_

As the girl of his dreams gazed at him in horror as he made a mockery of himself in the local five star, he cleared his throat. "Selphie, we've been together for two years now. We've had rough times, but we've also had lots of good times." His mental checklist had DON'T LIST EXAMPLES written in bold red ink and underlined, so he didn't. "You've been there for me no matter what, through all the tough times; you've been my guiding light in the darkness. I would be the proudest man alive if you would say that you will…" _Um, there's another step. And I've forgotten it. Proposal. Proposal... box. Box! Open the box._ He did so, and Selphie let out a little squeak as she saw the glittering band of gold and diamond, flashing brilliantly in the dim lights of the restaurant. "…If you would say that you will marry me, and be Mrs. Kinneas." _Please say yes, please say yes, please kill me..._

Selphie bounced in her seat, overcome with the thrill of the moment, a grin stretching to each ear and beaming like a billion watt bulb. "Oh Irvine! Oh, oh oh, oh yes, yes I do! I will! I'll marry you! I love you Irvine!" She launched off the red velvet chair and into his arms, bowling him over onto the luxurious Galbadian carpet and spilling wine everywhere.

Irvine was the happiest man alive. He was also feeling as if he had just made a huge mistake, and he had no idea why.


	2. Ch 2 Of Advil and Flashbacks

Chapter 2 – Of Advil and Flashbacks

* * *

As the light shone in the window, blinding him and only adding to his building migraine, he frantically searched through the drawer in his desk, shoving aside the unimportant items that had somehow made their way into it. _It's got to be in here somewhere; this is where I last left it. Hyne, it's too much, I can't work without them today._

_They're bad for you, you know._

_Don't lecture me, _he muttered as he located the bottle of little miracle pills, a.k.a. Advil, and popped the cap. Dishing out a small handful, he shoved them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. _Let's hope that does the trick, otherwise I won't be able to function. _As it was, the agony was doing games of hopscotch along his spine, and an invisible imp with a power drill was chipping away at his skull.

_You should see Kadowaki about it, Squall. I don't know much about humans, but I do know that it's not normal for them to feel like this all the time._

_It is for me._ He slouched down in the swivel chair and rubbed his scar, where pain like to congregate from time to time and was doing so now. _I can't remember an age when I didn't feel like this. At least I used to be allowed to fight. I can always forget about it for a little while in battle. Now I have this dinky desk job, and Cid won't give me missions unless the objective is "Save the World"._

_Well, you are a – look sharp, Quistis just came in the room._

Whipping his head up, he instantly regretted the movement. _Owowowowowowow_ "What is it, Quistis?" he barked, trying to look nonchalant. _Nope, no people in terrible pain here, you must be mistaken._

He didn't look anything like nonchalant, but he never did, so Quistis wrote it off as him acting normal. "I have the daily reports for you to look over. You have to make decisions on a few of them, but all the others need is your signature. Oh, and there's a package for you."

He made a gesture which he hoped translated as 'Give them here'. It must have, since she did just that, and stood there looking at him with that knowing smirk of hers. She always liked to believe she knew what he was thinking, and it annoyed the hell out of him. _You can hear what I'm thinking, huh? Well hear this: you're a fat, ugly, psycho daughter of a hexadragon, and your breath smells funny._

_Squall!_

_Aw, you know I didn't mean it Shiva. I just get tired of her acting all 'cleverer-than-thou' all the time. I mean, how likely is it that she actually knows me?_

_Not very. If she looked even a millimeter past the surface, she'd have shipped you off to the infirmary for a full checkup._

_I am _not _insane._

_I didn't say that. I said you're having physical problems. Learn to read between the lines correctly, dear._

Quistis frowned and stroked her ear, gazing at him intently. "Were you just… talking to yourself?"

Squall didn't let the shock show on his face. _You are a freaky woman and you frighten me._

Quistis made as if to say something, then shook her head and walked out the door.

_Oh good, the pain pills are kicking in._ Sinking into a warm fuzzy cloud of non-pain, Squall set to work on his pile of papers, quickly forgetting about Quistis and her freakiness.

About an hour later he remembered the other thing Quistis had given him. Looking askance at the mysterious package, which was barely the size of a paperback book, Squall read the label and immediately wondered if he should open it at all. _What the heck is Seifer doing sending me a package?_

_Open it. I think I have an idea what it's for._

_Oh, do you. Well, might as well._ Ripping off the bland brown wrapping, Squall tore diligently at the tiny thing until it revealed its burden. As the last of the paper came off, the light struck the silver object within and bounced into his eyes. Wincing, he shifted it to a shaded position and took a closer look.

It was a photo album, one of the tiny metal kind you can buy at gift stores. Flipping it open, he jaw slid open as he saw the contents. Pictures. Of him. As a kid.

There was a note attached, scrawled in Seifer's impossible handwriting. "Thought you might want these. Matron found them a while back and gave them to me, since I was the only one at the orphanage at the time. You were a sad little bugger."

As he hunted through the pictures, he found that Seifer was correct. Many of the pictures were of the other kids playing with him in the background, but a few were of him alone, usually not looking at the camera. Every single picture of him showed a sad, pale face with haunted eyes, the lips already locked into their future pout that he couldn't get them to stop doing. As hard as he looked, he couldn't find a single picture in which he was smiling.

One picture showed him lying on a bed with a cast, and Squall smirked. _You were right, Shiva. Looks broken to me._

_Of course I'm right._

He closed the album and picked up the note, rereading the vague message. _But why did Seifer send this thing to me in the first place?_

_Happy birthday, Squall._

What? Oh, right, tomorrow was his birthday. Twenty years old. Odd, that he didn't remember it and Seifer did.

* * *

He gazed into the crowded classroom, and 48 mascara-lined eyes gazed back. And all of them were focused on his lips.

Why did he even bother? "Okay class, today we'll be reviewing the elemental monster patterns for the quiz next Wednesday. Before we begin, are there any questions?

15 hands shot up. Sighing miserably, he selected a hand at random. "Mr. Kinneas, do you allow students to schedule private study sessions with you?"

The entire female population of the room, which was everyone but him, perked up at that and eagerly waited for his answer. Mogtrotters, he was engaged, would they ever give him peace? "No, I do not. I'm not a teacher full time, and I've already got enough on my plate as is." He gave her a charming smile to soften whatever blow she might assume.

Any groans or complaints that might have been were crushed under sighs of admiration, as the entire class beamed dreamily back at him. Oh, this was just too much.

On the whole, most of his infamy was accurate, and he had been a real ladies man in his time. But a large portion of the flirting he was assumed to have done was just women jumping to conclusions every time he smiled or held a door for them. Was it his fault he was brought up to be a gentleman? And when the same females started offering him nighttime companionship, who was he to say no?

He couldn't do that now, though, or Selphie would pull a THE END on his ass. Picking up the stack of handouts, he selected a delighted pigtailed redhead to pass them out and returned to musing about his future wife.

He loved her. He really did. But lately, the feelings of misgivings were building up. He didn't know if it was pre-marriage jitters, or what, but it was starting to turn him into a nervous wreck. He had even faked late office work last night to keep from going home to Selphie, just so he wouldn't have to face her in his pitiful state.

And the sex was… okay, the sex was as good as ever. But still, something's wrong if you can start thinking about tax forms in the middle of your partner's orgasm.

Suddenly coming to the knowledge that the entire class was silently watching him think about sex, he blushed and tried to stammer out the first example on the sheet. Luckily, the class didn't notice how terrible he was stammering, since they were all sighing happily at his red complexion.

Watching them watching him, he contracted an intense case of déjà vu. Now where had he seen this before… oh yeah. Galbadia.

Of course, back then it had been him as a student, standing in front of a crowd of bored teenagers, boys mostly, as he stammered through the oral section of his term paper. The few girls in the class, even then, had watched him with longing expressions, licking their lips whenever he licked his dry ones. And one boy had done the same thing.

Ah, yes. Trent.

Trent had been the single most life changing thing that had ever happened to him. At the time Irvine was just another Garden student, working hard to keep from getting sent home in disgrace. It wouldn't have really been disgrace, though, since his adoptive father would've just patted him on the shoulder and asked what he wanted for supper. But still, he had his pride to defend, and he defended it jealously.

He had dated Suzie Binx a few weeks before, and his reputation in the school had gone up because of it. Hyne knows what kind of rumors she put out about him, but apparently those rumors alerted Trent McHenson to his existence.

They had first spoken in the hallway after class, when Trent had spilled his books all over the floor and was desperately trying to retrieve them as the students laughed and mocked. Irvine hadn't even thought about it, bending down to scoop up books to help the person in need. The laughter had faded and the crowd had dispersed, but Trent had kept the grateful admiration in his eyes. Irvine had thought nothing odd of the offer to have lunch sometime, and had agreed offhand. Later, he agreed just as readily to see a movie together, and then a sleepover, and then Trent kissed him.

Now, he had been a young fellow at the time, barely into puberty, but he had heard the whispers and the mocks in the hallway. Queer. Gay. Fag. He knew what they meant, and when he was kissed for the first and last time ever by a guy, he knew what it meant. It meant that Trent was one of those, a pansy, a limp-wristed camper. And it meant that he must be one too, for the feeling of Trent's lips against his was the most sensational thing he had ever experienced in his short life.

Out of fear and desperation he had pushed the boy away, refusing to speak or even look at him at school. Worried that Trent might spread rumors about what had happened, Irvine started hitting on girls more than ever, making himself up to be a smooth-talking devil even before he learned how to be one for real. Trent had gotten the hint and left him alone, though occasionally he caught the boy watching him with sad, wistful eyes.

And that had been that. Later, Irvine had gotten assigned to a sniper mission, met Selphie, and the rest was a 14k ring on her finger and warm nights spent cuddling.

Strange, that he enjoyed snuggling with her more than the hot moments. But it wasn't because he was a fag or anything. He liked girls, and he like Selphie. And that was that.

Sighing again, he continued with the lecture, never realizing that he had just spent 10 minutes standing at the front of a silent classroom with a dreamy look on his face and the students watching him with rapt attention.


	3. Ch 3 Of Goddesses and Chocolate

Chapter 3 – Of Goddesses and Chocolate

* * *

Squall popped the last of the pills into his mouth and swallowed as doors to the elevator opened with a ping. Stepping into the large office, he marched briskly to the desk and saluted, his blank face showing nothing of the ache underneath. "You asked me to come, sir?" _I wonder what's up now. Cid almost never calls anyone up except Xu._

_He had better be giving you a mission or vacation. It's about time you got one of those._

The graying man swiveled in his chair, his gaze grazing over the SeeD in front of him absently. "Ah, yes, Squall. Good of you to come. I need to talk about a new mandate that was put into effect yesterday."

Mandate? "Sir, what's this about?"

Cid set down the folder in his hand and looked at Squall with a serious severity. "It's about the GFs, Squall. The Guardian Forces. The Garden Council put through a mandate that all GFs be kept in control spheres when not in use. Basically, you're going to have to forfeit your GFs to the Garden's custody.

Give up Bahamut and Cerberus? Even at that moment they were stirring as they heard the words, reluctant to leave the mind of a man who was so respectful to them. But Garden law was final, and he would have to do as told. Taking a breath to steady himself, he nodded in acceptance.

"All of them, Squall."

Squall just stared at Cid, waiting for those words to make some sense. All of them? _I heard him the first time. I'll give up Bahamut and Cerberus; I'm not making a fuss._

_He means me, _whispered the ice.

Several seconds later, he was still trying to digest that. No. No, Cid couldn't do that. No. Shiva was his. Right?

Cid sighed, which was a loud business for the old man. "The mandate was meant to protect the SeeDs junctioned to GFs. Shiva is just like the rest of them. She destroys your memories, memories that you might need. Now if you just – "

"She is NOT like the rest of them!"

A deathly silence followed, as Cid tried to adjust to the fact that Squall had just talked back to him. Squall never talked back. Ever. He barely even talked. And right now Squall was looking rather livid, his face three shades redder than ever seen on him before and his eyes with an expression that might be found on an enraged chimera. "Now Squall, I know you must be upset about this…"

Slamming his leathered hand on the desk, Squall was somewhat pleased with the way Cid jumped back, but he didn't show it. "Upset! Shiva is mine. MINE! I found her. I brought her here. She doesn't belong to the Garden, or you, and you can not and WILL NOT tell me what to do with her!"

_That's my boy! He wants me, he can come in here and drag me out._

Cid held up his hands in defense, sweat beading down his chin. "Now Squall, don't be that way. I'm just filling out the orders of the mandate. Frankly, I voted against it, but the majority wasn't for me. You know the rules about dealing with those who don't obey their superiors."

_Yeah, I know. They get kicked out of the Garden. Is that what you're threatening, to kick me out? You know I have nowhere to go. The Garden is my home._

_He better not be implying that, or I'll show him why I'm considered a goddess._

_Now Shiva, I work for a mercenary corporation, remember? If you damage any property or persons, they'll shoot me, and then they'll arrest me. And then they'll find my body guilty of treason and hang it._

_Still, a GF can dream, can't she?_

Cid watched anxiously as Squall paused, his eyes flickering back and forth as if following something invisible. "She's… she's talking to you, isn't she? Surely she understands what she's doing to you, how much she's damaging you. You'll never be able to live a normal life this way, Squall, you must reconsider. Shiva, tell him to reconsider."

_Shiva, he's wrong. You're not hurting me. We can stay together, and there's nothing he can do about it, right?_

Shiva hesitated.

_Right?_

_Well, Squall, he is right about me hurting you. I'm basically a parasite, and you're my host._

_No._

_Yes, Squall, much as we hate to admit it, I am living off your memories. And as I get stronger, I'll take up more space in here. I'd hate too see what would happen if I got too big…_

_It's not going to happen. _"What if I don't give her up? Are you saying you'll kick me out? Then kick me out. She'll be going with me." _This is my home, but… you're my family._

Cid sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Squall, it's for your own good. You'll still get to see her, and you'll junction her for training or battle. Why can't you just accept this?"

_Accept it. Right. Like I accepted him making me Commander. Never asked if I wanted that, did he? Just more responsibility and guilt, having to make decisions that kill people. Just like he sent me to Garden when I was ten, because no one would adopt me. Just like-_

_Honey, Cid's trying to say something to you._

_Huh?_ Looking up, Squall found Cid gazing expectantly at him. Squall stared back blankly, waiting for the man to repeat himself, and he would.

Cid wrinkled his nose in irritation, though he still was on edge from Squall's previous outburst. "As I said before, I hate to say it but it comes down to this, Squall. Let us store Shiva in a GF sphere when you're not in battle, or resign your commission. Please understand I'm only doing this for your own health."

_Like hell he is, he's doing this to keep his own job. But… where am I going to go? Maybe to Esthar, Laguna'd take me in. He's still on that guilt trip for 'Not Being There For Me'…but I wouldn't want him to feel obligated. We barely even know each other. And if I leave… I might never see the other orphans again. What would the world be like without Zell, or Selphie? Well, a lot quieter, for one, but still…_

"…and you'd lose Shiva anyway."

_Wait, what?_ "What?"

Cid rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Squall, sometimes I don't know where your mind goes. As I said, the new Garden mandate requires me to enforce this upon you whether or not it's voluntary. We can't have people running around with that much power, especially if we've just… er, kicked them out. If you resign, I'll have to take Shiva from you anyway."

Squall snorted. "You and how many behemoths?"

Cid sighed. "Me and every single SeeD available, I'm afraid. Please, don't make me order Quistis and the others to hold you down."

_Shit. They'd hate to do it to me, but they would. Shiva, what am I going to do? I don't want to hurt them, but… I don't want to lose you._

Shiva was silent for a time, but it was a restless silence that told Squall she was thinking. Finally, she gave the GF equivalent of a sigh, which for her was a shiver of ice down his spine. _I think we should do as he says._

_But Shiva-_

_No, Squall. If you refuse, they'll still take me from you, and then make you leave. At least if we cooperate, we'll still get to see each other sometimes._

This was too much. _But Shiva, I… but you… but we… ow._The headache had returned, and had brought reinforcements. _Where the hell did I put those pills..._ He patted himself down absently, searching for his missing fix._ Pants pockets…jacket pockets… belt pockets… boot pockets… crotch pocket… glove pockets… inside jacket pockets…_

_You just finished off the bottle, remember? Five minutes ago. Wait for them to kick in, please?_

Cid watched all this with a pleasant smile of panic, wondering whether Squall was on something, or just off the deep end. Why was it that he always ended up promoting the "troubled" ones? "Yes or no, Squall. Make a decision."

_Say yes, love. I don't want to see you hurt.

* * *

_

Yes, he definitely needed some whiskey to get through this. A bottle at least. The problem was, his whiskey stash had been missing for about three days now. It was there, and then it was simply gone. Since he couldn't think of anyone who could and would steal his booze (Zell and Seifer didn't have access to his room, and Quistis had her own stash), he decided that the liquor must have somehow fallen through a rip in the space-time continuum and was now making someone happy in another dimension. His loss, their gain.

Scratching his head, Irvine wondered if the cafeteria would serve him alcohol if he begged really, really hard. There was no way he would attempt to soothe a pissed Selphie sober.

Unfortunately, that was what it looked like he was going to be doing. Turning around, he surveyed his expensive top-secret technical equipment 'borrowed' for this mission. _Roses,__ check. Key to the Observation Deck, check. Chocolates… check and double check, and I hope she doesn't get sick from this many. CD player with battery pack, check. Romantic CD, check. That's everything. Now all I have to do is coax her into meeting me up at the Deck, and pray it doesn't rain._

It hadn't been his fault in the first place. He had no interest in Claudine Bishop whatsoever, despite her lovely blond hair and… other attributes. She really had tripped and gone falling into his arms, just as he turned the corner. Honest.

Of course, fate had decided to mock him, and Selphie had seen them like that, Claudine laughing and blushing as she twisted in his arms in what was not an innocent manner. He still had a bruise from where his petite fiancée had chucked her shoe at him. Sighing, he picked up the room phone, crossed his fingers, and dialed.

"Hello?" chirped a sweet voice on the other end, the type of voice that told you that the owner might have had too much sugar.

Gathering up his courage, Irvine slipped into I'm-reaaaally-sorry mode. "Hey, honey. Look, I-"

And she hung up on him. Okay, trying again.

"I don't want to talk to you." Slam. And again.

"Honey, give me a moment to speak, please baby?" Silence from the other end, but no dial tone, so things were looking up. "I know what it looked like, but it was completely an accident. AND-" he said quickly before she could hang up or scream at him, "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot and fool and you're always right. Right?"

"Don't you try to sweet talk me, Mr. Kinneas. I should've known this would happen. You've always been a loose gun. What, is that… that, Claudine, better than me? Well?"

Sweet talk mode initiated. "Of course not baby, you're my precious little brunette. My soon-to-be-wife, Light Of My Life. You know I love you and only you. Look at that ring on your finger. Doesn't that say, 'I'm in this for the long haul'? I'm not gonna run out on you."

A pause, and then a soft reply. "I… er, I threw it across the room."

He sighed. Throwing things worth that much. "That's okay sweetie, I probably deserved that. No harm done, of course."

Another pause. "Um, I meant, as in, the Cafeteria room."

He rubbed his forehead to quell the oncoming headache. Great, it was probably covered in ketchup by now. "That's no problem baby, I'll find it for you. But… all I'm asking is for a chance to make it up to you. Yes? Please?"

After a long and tense moment, she finally sighed, the sound coming across tinny through the phone. "All right, Irvine. Where do you want me?"

It took physical effort to keep from thinking about the double meaning of her words. "Great. Tonight? The Observation Deck, at ten o'clock. Just knock on the door; I'll already be there."

"I'll be there, stud. You better make this worth my while." A giggle, then a dial tone.

Letting out a huff of air in relief, he slumped back on the bed. Good, she didn't sound as mad as she had been. If things worked out well that night, he would be sleeping of the make-up sex in the morning. And… ah dangit, he was laying on the chocolates. Shifting his weight off of the treats meant for his dearest chibi one, he now found himself lying on the CDs. He gave up, stood up, and paced. Yep, make-up sex tonight. The best kind. Selphie would be all giggly and sugar high, and would latch onto him and cover him in kisses and never let go.

Some small part of his mind, the part that mostly hid from the world behind steel reinforced doors, piped up. _You don't really want to have sex with Selphie, do you?_ He promptly took out a rifle and shot that part of his mind with pulse ammo until it whimpered and quieted._ Yes, I do. I think._


	4. Ch 4 Of Wind and CD Players

Title: Pleasantly Depressed, Ch4 – Of Wind and CD Players

Author: Skandranon email: Final Fantasy VIII

Warnings: Attempted Suicide, cussing, self-bashing

Parings: Irvine/Squall

Authors Notes: Jeez, this chapter is long. Had a lot to write about.

Summary: The Suicide Attempt

Chapter 4

* * *

The wind was especially strong that night, whipping his dusty brown hair about and into his eyes, at which point he would curse and brush it back. As if things weren't bad enough, the universe decided to remind him that he needed a haircut. _Well, fuck you too._ And the wind replied with another hair-induced blindness.

Squall's life totally, completely, and utterly sucked. That's all there was to it. Just when he was absolutely sure it had gotten as bad as it could get, they took Shiva away from her. _Add one more to the list._ And now he was alone again. _I should be used to it by now. Good knows I've had enough practice._

All alone on a bitter cold night barely kept at bay by his jacket, with his chest pounding in agony and no pain pills at hand. The bottle had been misplaced long ago, and he had forgotten to buy more. At least the chill somewhat dulled the throbbing, though it only made the stinging headache worse. Rubbing his arm absently, he gazed out at the black horizon with a bitter expression. At least no one would bother him, since he had locked the door to the Observation Deck.

Shiva had always been the one to stop him when he got too depressed, reminding him of his self-worth. Now he was alone in his own head, and the sensation was vaguely disturbing. Without his ice goddess to keep his thoughts in check, they spiraled ever downward. _Figures she'd be taken from me too. It's not as if I deserve having someone love me or anything. I mean, look at me. I'm pitiful._ He clutched his jacket closer to him as the breeze picked up. _You have to be pretty screwed up to deserve having everything you care about taken away._

If he had had a mirror at that moment, he would have seen a skinny pale boy trussed up in leather, scars attesting to the sad quality of his life, with eyes that held the weight of the world in them. Good thing he didn't have a mirror. That would've just made him more depressed.

And the pain just kept getting stronger. It surged like molten led in his chest and head, throbbing with his slow heartbeat. Occasionally a sharp spike of agony would stab in him, driving his breath away as spots danced in his vision. _Hyne__, make it stop…it hurts too much…_It was worse now than it had ever been before. And without the pills, there would be no relief from it tonight.

Briefly dizzy, he leaned against the railing and gazed downwards. Many hundreds of feet below the black ocean swelled and frothed as the Garden hovered over it, the dark water stretching in all directions until it connected with the moonless sky. Besides the dim stars that blinked futilely above, the only light came from the windows of the Balamb Garden itself. That it was such a black night fit well with his mood.

_I hate my life. I'm never going to be loved by anyone, am I? It's pathetic how much that figures. I wasn't even good enough for my own father; why would anyone else want me? Agh, it hurts… _He rubbed his chest viciously, but the ache could not be driven out. _…Make it stop…Just make it stop…_

_Rinoa__ didn't love me. Laguna didn't love me. Matron didn't love me. Ellone left, Shiva left, Seifer left…Damnit, why do I deserve this! All my life I've done only what other people want me to, and it's never good enough. It'll never be good enough. I try my hardest to be good enough, to be worth caring about, and it's never enough._

_And if Shiva was here, she would tease me for using the words 'good enough' too many times. _He shivered, the cold seeping into his skin. _But she's not here. Nobody's here. And nobody ever will be here._

As the world sailed by, a small thought worked its way into his mind. _It's never going to get any better. This is my life. Damnit, I hate this life. I'm never going to have someone love me, never going to have someone stay. And the worst part is, it figures. I should have seen it coming. I'm not worth caring about. Maybe it would have been better if I had never been born. Maybe it would have been better if I had been killed at birth._

_Maybe it would be better if I jump._

Staring at the expanse below, it took him a moment to realize what he had just thought. _Great, now I'm thinking about suicide again. Leaping to my death. Huh, would probably be more dramatic than slitting my wrists. And cleaner than shooting myself in the head. More reliable than taking too many pills… I already take too many pills. Wonderful. Won't happen, though. I always think about suicide whenever I'm depressed, but that doesn't mean I'll actually go through with it. After all, I don't want to die, do I?_

And in the silence of the night, the answer came to him.

_Yes. Yes I do._

Thinking about it logically, considering the distance he would fall, the impact with the ocean would surely snap his neck or spine. It would snap something, definitely. And if that didn't kill him, he would drown, unable to swim with broken bones._ Foolproof. Which is a good thing, since I'm a fool._

He had only ever attempted suicide once before, the day that Ellone left. He hadn't known much about dying at the time, being so young, and had tried to kill himself by stabbing himself with one of Matron's kitchen knives. He hadn't known why it didn't work until he studied anatomy at the Garden and found out that, oh, the heart is on the _other_ side of the chest. As he had lain in his own blood, unable to move, he had felt his mind slipping from him, and had thought vaguely, _But__ I'm just a kid, I'm too young to die._

Shiva had kept him company all through that night, whispering nursery rhymes and songs from ancient long-dead civilizations to keep him awake. Matron had found him in the morning when she came to make coffee, a pale little boy lying helpless on her clean kitchen tiles, surrounded by a small pond of sticky redness. After the momentary panic, she had assumed that he was stealing her knife to play "Sorceress' Knight" again, as Seifer was wont to do, and had accidentally stabbed himself. Squall hadn't corrected her. After that day, he had decided to wait until he was an adult to die, but time had passed, and he had forgotten all about his previous suicide attempt.

And then Time Compression had dispelled the affects of the Guardian Forces and now he remembered _everything._

Getting up the courage to kill himself wasn't the problem. Once he had made up his mind to do so, he would simply go through with it. The problem was deciding if he was absolutely sure that he wanted to die. _Life's not going to get any better. I'm going to feel this miserable forever._ _But if I jump… it ends._ _No more pain, no more loneliness. It'll just end._

Would anybody really care if he was gone? Rinoa probably wouldn't even notice. Seifer might be upset that it wasn't him who did Squall in. Ellone would be sad, of course, but she was all the way over in Esthar, and they barely ever saw each other these days. She would cope. Selphie would probably cry, but Irvine would comfort her. Matron would be sad, but she had other orphans to worry about. Laguna might be upset about losing a chance to get to know his alienated son, but frankly Squall didn't want to get to know him. Cid would probably make some big speech at his funeral and put everybody to sleep, and then move on with his life. Zell would… well, probably mope. Quistis wouldn't let it affect her too badly, but she might get good and drunk over it.

Shiva would care. She would probably miss him a great deal, but she was an immortal. People she cared about were destined to die someday anyway. She would move on. He hoped.

He suddenly realized that he was thinking as if he had already decided to do it. _Well, why not? Live or die, either way you're only hurting yourself. And frankly, right now I'd rather be dead than feeling like this._

He was going to do it.

Now, how was he going to do it? _Have to jump pretty far. Don't want to hit the Garden on the way down, so I need to jump outwards. Can't jump outwards over this railing. Maybe if I get up on top of the railing, standing on it. That would work. I think I could hold onto the roof until I'm ready. _Using the wall of the small box-like deck, he carefully climbed up onto the railing, reaching up with one hand and pushing against the roof to support himself. Good, the railing was really thick, providing plenty of room to put his feet. Walking like a tightrope, he made his way to the center of the railing, then turned to face the sea. _Okay, I'm gonna do it. Give myself a count to go on, then leap. Not so hard. Okay, on three. One…_ He took a deep breath and let it out, steeling himself for the fall… _two…_ He let go of the ceiling and tensed his muscles, ready to jump… _thre__-_

And the door chimed as it opened.

* * *

Yessir, tonight was going to be special. He was going to sweep his lady love off her feet and into his bed. He was going to smooth talk her until she kissed him senseless. He had everything ready, he was set to go.

He was going to do it.

_Come on, __Irvine__, you can't back out now. Selphie'll be here in less than half an hour. That gives you enough time to set everything up on the Deck and get a hold of yourself. _Where had all his suave self-confidence gone? It was like fate didn't want him to make up with Selphie, or something.

Fumbling with his armload of items, he managed to shift them all so that his hand was free to use the card-key. The card panel indicated that the door to the Observation Deck was locked, which was strange for this time of night, but which was the situation he had appropriated the key for in the first place. Sliding it through, the panel shone green and the door chimed as it opened. Great, now to just set all this stuff down inside so that he could-

And there was a Squall on his railing.

Irvine dropped everything in surprise, wincing inwardly at the sound of the CD player breaking. What the heck was Squall doing here? And what the heck was Squall doing? The idiot Commander was standing on _top_ of the deck railing, just standing there as if it was a perfectly normal thing to be doing. Looking closer, Irvine noticed that Squall was watching him with an absolute look of shock and panic on his face. Okay, that was weird. Squall never showed that much emotion.

Sweet Hyne, didn't the guy know how easily he could fall? One false move and he would trip and go over the edge and…

…Ohhhh.

_You know, I was kind of expecting Murphy's Law to step in and have something awful happen to ruin this night, but I wasn't expecting the something to be a suicidal Squall._

Stepping over his broken supplies, he slammed his hand on the 'door lock' panel, and the door behind him slid shut. He moved towards Squall, but the anxiety that action brought to the boy's face made him pause. Slowly lifting his hands in a 'surrender' pose, he spoke quietly and calmly, not wanting to scare the already-tense Commander. "Squall, easy, I'm not going to tell anyone, just come down from there and we'll talk it over." Mogtrotters, Squall had been about to jump. As in, if Irvine had been a few moments slower, the door would have opened to an empty Observation Deck.

Squall made no reply, not shifting in the slightest.

Sweat beaded on Irvine's brown. If he screwed this up… Squall's death would be his fault. "It's okay Squall, it's okay. Just come on down, okay? Please come on down."

Squall turned his head away from him to face the sea.

Sure that the other man wouldn't notice, Irvine inched a little closer, planning to grab and pull Squall down if he refused to cooperate. "Squall, at least tell me why you're doing this. I think I deserve that much, yeah?"

Squall glanced back, and noticed how much closer Irvine was. His hand involuntarily went up to hold the ceiling. "Stay back. I'll jump."

Irvine froze. From here, he could tell just how upset Squall was. There was a look to the stormy blue-gray eyes that didn't seem all that sane. "Okay Squall, okay. Just stay calm. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do. Just tell me why you're doing this."

A frown creased the deep scar on his forehead. "You wouldn't understand."

Irvine knew that his response was supposed to be 'Yes I would' or 'Try me', but frankly, he didn't want to go down that cliché path. Besides, Squall was right. Irvine couldn't fathom any reason why someone would go that far. "Probably not. But I know that, if you're gonna kill yourself, you at least owe me a explanation to give the police when they interview me. Don't screw me over, Squall." If he knew Squall, he knew that the man was very sensitive about being a burden to others. Hopefully playing on that would get a positive response, positive being that the moron would get the heck down from that painfully narrow ledge.

"I'm not screwing you over. I'm not hurting anyone." Squall looked away, clearly trying to convince himself more than the cowboy.

_Good, now I've got him doubting. _"You really think that? You know how many people are going to be upset if you die? A whole ton. What about Ellone? Do you want your Sis crying over your body?"

Squall made no reply for a moment, then, "Nobody will care."

"I sure as hell will, I can tell you that much." _Damnit__, Squall's convinced himself that that's the truth. I won't be able to make him see otherwise. Better take a different tactic. _"Yeah, and if you die, what will the Garden do? You'll just be abandoning us, leaving us without a Commander. You're the reason we're still alive, you know. Guess what happens if you die. We die."

That got a flinch. "Quistis could be Commander. Or Xu. Or Seifer."

"Not like you they couldn't. We're a mercenary force, Squall. We need a great Commander, or we don't stand a snowball's chance in a Fire Cave."

"I'm not a great Commander. My decisions got people killed." Squall turned to face the sea, letting go of the roof and letting his hand fall to his side. With the brisk wind brushing his hair back and the lights from the Garden gleaming on his face, Squall was quite a pleasing sight. _As cute as __Trent__ anyday._ Irvine winced at that thought and drop kicked his inner voice. _Not thinking about __Trent__. Not thinking about __Trent_

"You really think that? Fuck, Leonhart." _Great, now I sound like Seifer. _"Your decisions are what keep us _alive._ Any other person running the show, and we'd all be rotting corpses right now. Or slaves under Sorceress rule, which could either be a step up or down from decaying. And for Hyne's sake, hold onto something, will you?" The fearless gunblader was scaring the wits out of him, standing up on that thin rail without support. If he hadn't known that Squall was suicidal, he would've assumed he was insane.

After a long, nervous moment, Squall placed his hand back against the ceiling to steady himself. "You still haven't given me a reason not to do it." Irvine couldn't see his face at this angle, but Squall's voice sounded… broken.

The thought made Irvine shiver. "Well, what do you want me to do?" _I've given it my best shot. I can't think of anything that might… wait a minute. It's risky, but if it works…_ "I think I can find something that'll make you change your mind."

Squall turned to halfway face him, curiosity warring with misery on his face. It was an interesting war to watch. "How?" he said finally.

Taking off his hat and coat and dropping them beside the pile next to the door, Irvine went over to one wall, grabbed the railing and said wall, and _carefully_ hoisted himself up. Hm. The railing didn't look as narrow from up here. Placing his hands on the roof in imitation, he slowly walked over to his leathered companion, who was currently looking at Irvine as if he had lost his sanity. "This," he said, turning to face the sea and oh my sweet Hyne that was a long drop, "is how I'm gonna prove to you someone gives a shit about your existence."

"What are you doing!" Squall hissed, obviously not pleased with the turn of events.

Irvine shot him a cocky self-smug grin, which was the rough opposite of what he was feeling. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm gonna jump."

Squall's eyes narrowed. "No you're not. You're not even suicidal."

Irvine mocked an angry frown. "One of my friends is trying to kill himself, and you say I'm not depressed? At least this way I'll know I gave it my best shot." When Squall made no reply, Irvine let go with one hand and lightly nudged him. "So, are we doing this are what? Cause I'm getting kinda bored up here."

Squall squinted at the cowboy, weighing his seriousness. "You wouldn't jump."

Irvine knew for a fact that he was the world's greatest bluffer. It was about time he used it in the name of good. Focusing all his energies, and his eyes as well, on Squall, he gave the man the most dead-serious look of his entire life. Not including the time he had promised Anette Tribusky he would still respect her in the morning. "You better believe it. You jump, I jump. My death will be your fault." And the sledgehammer hits home.

Squall's eyes widened a touch, and he visibly flinched, pain filling his face. Yep, Irvine knew just how to push his buttons. Must come from watching Seifer push them when they were little.

"Well, Squall? Are you going to jump or not? It's your idea us being up here, after all. How I give us a count to go on, ne? Say, on the count of three. You ready? I'm ready. One." Carefully letting go of the ceiling, _I don't want to accidently do this for real, _he took a deep breath as if building up his courage. "Two." He tensed his muscles and bent his knees a little, eyes locked on the horizon he was 'aiming' for. Squall wasn't showing any signs of preparing to jump, but if he did, Irvine would be in a prime position to save him. _Okay, I'll say three, then grab him and shove him back onto the Deck._ "Thre-"

And Squall grabbed him and shoved him back onto the Deck.

Lying on the cold metal with a headache and a Leonhart on his chest, Irvine felt himself grinning foolishly. _Well, that worked out pretty well._ Looking up into Squall's eyes, he was surprised to find that his Commander was scared shitless, panic written all over his pale face in bold ink. _You know, he's rather warm. Must be from wearing leather all the time. Conserves body heat, and all._

To disprove that this scene couldn't get any more bizarre, there came a rapping at the door. "Irvine?" the love-of-his-life's voice called. "You in there? Why is the door locked? What are you doing?"

This just wasn't his day. Quick, think of something… "Well, for one thing, hon, I'm certainly not horizontal on the floor with Squall Leonhart."

_Brain, I am going to have you lobotomized._


	5. Ch 5 Of Bedrooms and Nicknames

Title: Pleasantly Depressed, Ch5 – "Of Bedrooms and Nicknames"

Author: Skandranon

Authors Notes: Shorter than the last chapter. Sorry it's been so long since the last update. School troubles.

* * *

Despite all his bruises, Irvine was still chuckling as they reached the door to Squall's room. He couldn't help it. It was just too funny.

The way Selphie had broken down the door when she had heard the word 'horizontal', taking the reinforced steel out with a single shot of Meteor. The look of sweet, innocent confusion in her eyes when she saw them. He had seen the puzzlement and questions running through the back of her brain as she tried to figure out the situation. Then she had smiled sweetly and giggled. "What happened Squall, did Irvine trip? The klutz."

Yeah, there was no way her husband-in-training could have been enjoying being lain upon by a rather attractive man. Nothing to be jealous about. Surely there's a reasonable explanation. Despite that she didn't even give him the benefit of the doubt over that blond whatsername, and he hadn't even enjoyed that.

Well, okay, maybe a little.

And she had completely bought his bull, believing every word when he explained how Squall had already been on the Deck, and Irvine had tried to get him to leave so he could have alone time with his love, and how Squall had tripped over the CD player and knocked them both down. Irvine had hinted that Squall might be a little drunk, and Selphie, like a responsible adult, had sent Irvine to escort him back to his room. "We can do this another time, honey," she had said. Hadn't she been mad at him that morning? That girl and her mood swings.

Squall had been silent the entire trip, quiet in a still way that almost set Irvine on edge. Or it might have been the recent events that were putting him on edge. Either way, Squall was not behaving like a person who was glad he hadn't committed suicide. He looked more like he was sulking.

The door chimed in an aggravating tone as it opened on a dark room. Sidling in, Irvine casually checked behind him to make sure Squall was still there. He wasn't sure he could trust the leather clad stud to not run off and throw himself in front of a train or car or-and he did NOT just call Squall a stud.

After a moment's hesitation, Squall stalked into the room and proceeded to search every corner for some unknown artifact. Considering how clean and Spartan his room was, there weren't many places to check. Irvine looked on in curiosity as Squall finally pulled out a pill bottle from underneath his pillows and fumbled with the cap. Did Squall have a backache like him? Maybe he was smarting from the bruises where the door had hit them after- holy hynelights, that was far too many pills to take! And even more were going down the Commander's throat as he watched.

Marching over, Irvine snagged the bottle and chucked it across the room, where it made an unappealing hollow 'thunk'. "What in the name of Ultima do you think you're doing! I just got you off that balcony and now you've gone and done this! These aren't Tylenol, you know! You really want to die, fine, I can't stop you, but don't do it while I'm in the room!" Pause, breathe, rant some more. "Sweet Trinity, how many did you take? You better be able to heave those back up, or I'm dragging you down to Kadowaki to get your stomach pumped. You idiot! Overdosing isn't exactly the best way to go, you know. If you're adamant about suicide, you were probably better off with the balcony, or a gun to your head, or… " pause, "…what?"

…And Squall was giving him a look of utter confusion. One more for the tally of 'Facial Expressions I've Seen on Squall Today'.

Irvine was more than a little ticked at this point. All his efforts, wasted at the first opportunity. Still, he had to keep in mind that Squall was suicidal, and shouldn't be pushed. "Now, I'm trying not to get upset here, so I just want to know one thing. Why the _hell_ did you do that!" Okay, maybe a little pushing wouldn't hurt. Get through that thick skull of his.

Squall opened his mouth as if to reply, then stopped, then started again. "I have a headache."

Oh, a headache…a headache? He took all that, for a _headache_! "So not buying that, Mr. Perfect. Try again."

And add annoyed stubbornness to the tally. "I do. And don't call me that."

Irvine forced his hands to stay by his side and not pop Squall one over the head. "Yeah, sure, you took about two dozen pills for a _headache_. Either you have a tumor, or you're lying through your teeth. And I'll call you whatever the hell I want, Mr. Suicidal Aggravating Perfect Commander Handsome Dude Leonhart Person! I just saved your life back there, and I'm a _little_ pissed off that you don't even appreciate the effort."

Squall looked as if he was about to argue, but then he froze with a look of… um, yeah, Irvine had never seen that expression in his life, so he had no idea what it might mean. Squall blinked, and frowned, and blinked, and… "Did you just call me handsome?"

What? No he didn't… oh fuck, he did. "Um, no?"

* * *

Stalking into his room, the sniper hot on his trail, Squall immediately began scouring every corner for his missing pill bottle. He knew he had a large one hidden somewhere that he used to refill his carry-around bottle…ah, there it was. Almost empty, too, he needed a new one soon. Hadn't he just bought this one a week ago? Nevermind, he had the grandfather of all agony churning in his head, and he needed relief _now_. Dumping a good sized handful into his palm, he chugged them down quickly. Would that be enough? His tolerance was getting higher every day, and lately the pain was worse than every before… ah, fuck it. He upended the entire bottle into his mouth and started swallowing.

Just as he finished the last mouthful, the bottle was suddenly knocked out of his hand. Opening his eyes in surprise, Squall found himself facing a very angry-looking Irvine. Why would Irvine do that? The bottle was empty now anyways, and he wasn't likely to die from an overdose anytime soon, since he was used to taking so many…and Kinneas seemed upset about something, maybe it had to do with Selphie showing up on the balcony…why had she shown up, anyway? Maybe Irvine invited her there for something…and his mouth was moving. Dangit, Irvine was talking to him, and he couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears. Why hadn't he noticed Irvine was talking? _If Shiva was here, she would have pointed it out for me. Strange, to find out how much I depended on her. When did I start needing her to tell me if people are talking to me? Seems like that would be something a person can do on their own. After all…wait, is __Irvine__ waiting for me to say something?_

Yes, it looked like he was. Squall had no idea what to say, but before he could think of something, Irvine began talking again, at a lower, less vicious volume, and Squall was relieved to discover that he could hear him again. "Now, I'm trying not to get upset here, so I just want to know one thing. Why the _hell_ did you do that!"

Why the hell did he do what? Oh, Irvine probably meant why did he swallow the whole bottle of pills. Well, what was he supposed to say? _Because, Irvine, I have been suffering from massive headaches for as long as I can remember, and I've no idea why, and right now I've got the worse headache of my entire life, and I think it's affecting my hearing. _Squall opened his mouth to say just that, then paused. _Better edit that down a bit._ "I have a headache."

Irvine looked relieved for a moment, then he did a double take. He actually did a double take. And it was funny as hell to watch. The controlled rage seeped into Irvine's expression again, and he crossed his arms in a way that declared he wanted a full answer and it better be good. "So not buying that, Mr. Perfect. Try again."

_Well, what was I supposed to say? It's the truth. The shortened version, maybe, but true all the same. Besides, it's none of his damn business. Did he just call me Mr. Perfect? Strange nickname, but I suppose it's better than Puberty Boy. It's still worse than Ice Prince, though. _"I do. And don't call me that." _It's not that bad a nickname, really, though it would be better without the Mr. prefix. Why Mr.? Why not, Sir, or The Perfect Something Or Other, such as The Perfect Gunblader, or The Perfect…Leonhart, or… I dunno. It's hard to think up nicknames for yourself, and no one will call you by whatever you make up anyway, so what's the point? Damn, I'm thinking a lot. Is __Irvine__ saying something?_

"…Handsome Dude Leonhart Person! I just saved your life back there, and I'm a _little_ pissed off that you don't even appreciate the effort."

_Appreciate? Appreciate! I wanted to jump, damnit! He screwed the whole thing up, and I can't even trust him not to tell Kadowaki! It'll get put on my permanent record, and she'll give me a mandatory vacation, and make me see a fucking shrink! …Damnit!_ Squall opened his mouth to say just that, and screw the editing, when the first part of what he heard registered. _Handsome Dude Leonhart Person? Okay, that was the oddest sentence…half-sentence, I've ever heard __Irvine__ say. Did he just call me handsome? He thinks I'm handsome. No, maybe he was talking about someone else…but he said Leonhart. He thinks I'm handsome? Why the hell would he call me a dude? He's a Galbadian, for crying out loud, they don't say dude. He thinks I'm handsome? He needs to cut down on the adjectives. Three is way too many for one noun, especially when the noun is person… he thinks I'm handsome?_ Squall was vaguely aware that he was supposed to be upset, horrified, or… something, but mainly he felt… he had no idea what he was feeling, but if he had to name it, he would name it… numbly flattered. _Rinoa's the only one's that ever called me handsome before. And I couldn't really trust her judgment on the matter. After all, she left me for Zone._ _Irvine__ thinks I'm handsome? _"Did you just call me handsome?"

And Irvine looked like a chocobo in the headlights. "Um, no?"

_Oh. Damn, got all worked up over a miscommunication…waitaminute… _Squall put one hand on his hip and glared at the other man accusingly. "Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

Irvine's face took on that eager honest look it got whenever he was trying to lie to someone but knew they could see right through him. "No, I didn't. You didn't hear me right. Besides, it's not important. What's important is that you just swallowed… sweet Hyne, we need to get them out of you quick. Can you make yourself throw up?"

_Sure, whenever the headaches are accompanied by nausea, it always makes me feel a bit better to throw up, but I'm not about to tell you that. _"Yes. And don't change the subject. You called me handsome."

Irvine grabbed Squall's arm and began pushing him towards the bathroom rather insistently. "That's not important right now. You get in there and you heave those back up."

Squall leaned into the pushing, remaining as firmly planted as he could, considering that Irvine was taller and more muscular than him. His shoes began sliding along, squealing as they went. "Yes it is. You think I'm handsome?"

"Damnit Squall, not now! Go throw up!"

_This is most ridiculous conversation I've ever had. Not including that time I had to convince Selphie that I would make a terrible merman. Now that was freaky. _"The pills aren't going to hurt me. Answer the question."

"You throw up, then I'll answer the fucking question!"

They had made gradual progress across the room, and were at the doorway of the bathroom now. There was a little ridge of wood on the floor that marked the threshold… Squall didn't know what it was called, but whatever its name, he had his feet planted against its side. Irvine couldn't slide him along any further. It helped a bit that Squall had both his hands gripping the doorframe. "Answer the question, then I'll throw up."

"Throw up first!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!" Push.

"YES!" Shove.

"NO!" Push more.

"YES!" Shove more.

And the door to the hall said, "Man, I wish I had a camera."


	6. Ch 6 Of Clocktowers and Coco

Title: Pleasantly Depressed, Ch 6 – "Of Clocktowers and Coco"

Author: Skandranon

Authors Notes. On the last chapter, I began to feel a bit uneasy about the story, and couldn't get it to flow. It took me a while, but I finally figured out how I wanted this chapter to play out. My favorite part of this is paragraphs five through seven.

* * *

_  
"Squall? Irvine?" Quistis says. "Sorry to interrupt but Irvine here's got a mission," she says. Sure, having a critical potentially traumatic life moment here, and Cid has the gall to assign a mission. Of all the…grr._

The clock tower above the corner of Fifth and Willace wasn't very well protected against the wind. It had been maybe two hours and already his fingers were doing the tingly thing. He slapped one hand against his knee to warm it up a bit, startling his stoic companion from wherever it was Squall went when he got the "I'm far far away and really sad" look. Not to be confused with the "I'm sorta far away and the world's ending look Squall got that night on the Deck.

"Sorry. Hands cold." He muttered, not wanting Squall to think they were under attack or anything and start throwing firagas around. When Squall went into Broody Mode, surprising him was never a good thing. _"Cid?" I said. "Squall's a bit…emotionally unstable right now and probably shouldn't be left alone," I said. "Well, take him with you," he says. Sure, send a suicidal SeeD on a sniping mission as my lackey. He'll probably arrange to get shot to save himself from boredom._

"Irvine?" _he says._ "The men just left the building," _he says. Off all the… oh, right._

"Showtime," he murmured, and shimmied up to where his rifle was set up. Already aimed towards the doors below, barrel loaded, just needed some slight adjustments to the scope and to locate the men… _ah, there they are. _A small pack of them, about half a dozen, all in grayish business suits and ringed by a small squad of bodyguards. _And there's my man. Ol "Billy" William Hardingill. Age 42, wife, 2 kids, a german shepard, three federal crimes on his head. At least his life insurance covers murder. Alright, time for the ritual. Clear the mind, clam the nerves. Clear the mind, calm the nerves. I am completely at peace. The gun is an extension of my arm. I breathe out as the tension leaves my body, inhale the good air, exhale the bad air. I will not screw up this shot. I will not screw up this shot…_

There are a few moments in life where everything slows down and the world suddenly shrinks into a single pinprick. Love at first sight was rumored to be one of them, not that he knew from experience. Another was the Perfect Shot. The moment where you forget about your back aching from sitting in one position too long. You forget about your ponytail tie scratching the nape of your neck. Your nose isn't cold, your boots don't chafe, your hair's not in your eyes, and your finger feels so _smooth_ against the trigger. You just know, without comprehending why, that it'll be a clean, precise, _perfect_ shot. Bliss.

The world froze and shrank into a pinprick.

The wind was about 20 mph due northeast, slightly downward. Two clicks to the left, one up. Billy boy shifted around on his feet. A click to the right. He inched closer to another suit and chatted while he waited for his limo to arrive. Three… four clicks to the left. _Perfect, perfect. Now smile, Billy boy, you're on candid camera…_

"Irvine?"

Sweet Hyne in a tutu! Right in his ear no less! _Of all the… bloody limbs, the gun's off target now._ "I was just about to make the shot, moron!" he hissed through his teeth, which seemed to be chattering for some reason. "What the hell do you want!"

At least Squall had the decency to look abashed. "Sorry, I… didn't know you… sorry." And he turned and leaned to one side, trying to hide in the wall and trying to look tough doing it. _It's difficult to be mad at someone who looks that penitent. Agh, darnit, this is not a good time to mope, Squall. _Choosing to ignore the tact-challenged gunblader, he shifted back to the view. _Alright, from the top. Gun's ready, check, locate Billy boy…and we're missing one Billy boy. Bloody severed heads, I'm going to hurt someone graphically. _It seemed that, while the sniper was distracted by an idiot, Billy boy decided to catch a ride with one of the other suits. Suits gone, car gone, Billy gone.

Irvine turned around slowly, slumped down against the harsh metal railing of the tower, and fished in his pockets for a cigarette. "Well," he said in a mangled calm voice, "that's that, then."

Looking over, Squall's eyes drifted out of innerspace to focus on him, and his forehead did the little creased confusion thing. "You already took the shot?"

"No," Irvine explained carefully, "I have not yet taken the shot. And I'm not going to be taking the shot. And do you know why?" The cigarette was lit now, so he took a puff for dramatic pause. "Because there's no one to shoot, You Charred Imbecile!"

Squall did the What? Face.

"Billy b- Hardingill's gone. While I was… interrupted… he slipped off to some unknown unshootable region. Here's a tip for future reference, Leonhart. NEVER talk to a sniper at work."

As it sunk in just what had gone wrong, Squall's expression shifted. _Aw, Hyne, not the 'I'm not that far away, but the door's locked, and I feel like killing myself' look. Okay, not going to strangle him, I'm going to strangle this rusty pipe here. Good, good, pipe's properly strangled; it will never take another breath. Now that I'm calm enough, I'm going try to… urk… cheer up the guy with the bad timing._

Irvine sighed, sighed again, breathed in the good air, breathed out the bad. "Look, it's not your fault…okay, it is your fault, and it was a stupid mistake, but it was still only a mistake. Everybody makes them. We'll just have to extend the mission another day, _and boy will Selphie be pissed, promised her dinner out tomorrow night, _and get the shot later. The business convention lasts another two days. So stop with the pouty face."

"I don't pout." Facial expression shifted to the 'Still not that far away, and really, I'm not pouting, but I'll have you know I'm miserable' look. Irvine wondered if Squall knew just how easy he was to read if you had the manual.

"Yes you are too pouting. Sulking. Moping. Brooding. Whatever the hell you angsty people call it in that world you pretend is your brain." _See, I don't have to kill or mutilate him, can always do the shot again tomorrow, just need to… calm… down…dangit, I think I left the tap on in the hotel bathroom._ "I'm not mad at you, _much,_ so you can stop beating yourself mentally blue over it."

A long, pregnant, in labor, congratulations it's a boy, pause, then a small head nod.

Irvine smiled, though he didn't fully feel it. _Shouldn't come down too hard on him. He's not a gunner, doesn't understand how nerve-racking it is to be completely submerged in the A-Sniping-We-Will-Go mindset and suddenly hear a voice inches from you head. If I'd been using my regular shotgun, he'd have a dinner plate hole in his stomach due solely to instincts. Doubt he'd appreciate how suicidal what he did was… oh yay, something new and different for him._

Come on, let's go get something hot to drink before my hands freeze over and I'm completely useless, kay?" _And while we're out, let's get some therapy, I feel a complex coming on.

* * *

_

_Have I mentioned how glad I am to have you back?_

_Only about ten times in the last minute, sweetie. Sip_ _your coco, it's getting cold._

_Yeah, but do you get how _really_ glad I am to have you back?_

_I am with the getting, honey. Coco. Sip._

Squall sipped his coco.

_But, seriously, do you REALLY-_

_-Okay, now you're just doing it to bug me._

_…Maybe._

_Love you too, Squall. Irvine's waiting for you to say something, honey._

Squall blinked, quirked an eyebrow, and shrugged. Irvine deemed this an acceptable answer and continued.

_He doesn't seem mad at me anymore, I think. You think?_

_I think._

_Too bad this couldn't be permanent. I can't stand just having you on missions, Shiva. It's too lonely._

_It is for me too, honey._

_Okay, you're just doing the 'sweetie honey sugarpie' thing to bug me, aren't you?_

_Maybe._

_…Love you too. Is Irvine saying anything important?_

_Only if you care about different types of ammo._

_Don't. What's it like in a GF sphere?_

_Kind of the same as being in your computer. Cold, dark, boring, but you don't feel the passing of time. Why did you try to kill yourself?_

Squall sipped his coco.

_Oh, you are going to answer me. I leave you alone for one week and you're trying to jump from high places. Why?_

Sip. Sip. Slurpity. Cough.

"You okay, Squall?"

"Fine." Sip.

_Small gulps, Squall. Don't choke on the marshmallows. Was it because I was gone?_

_…Maybe._

_Because you were lonely?_

_…Maybe._

_Because you had no one to keep you from dragging yourself through the mud?_

_…Maybe._

_Because the aliens stole your moomba doll?_

_…May…what?_

_Just making sure you were listening._

_So _that's_ where Grrface went._

_I'm still here, Squall. You still have someone, even if I'm not always with you._

_How can you still be _here _if you're not _here?

_In spirit, Squall. Metaphoricality._

_I wasn't being literal. Still…_

_I know. It's hard. But don't you dare add me to the List._

_…_

_You didn't._

Sip.

_You did._

Sip.

_Oh Merciful Hyne, Squall, I've said this uncountable times in the past, and I get the feeling I'll be saying it uncountable times in the future. So I'll just get a jump start on it right now. Notyourfaultnotyourfaultnotyourfaultnotyourfaultnotyourfaultnotyourfaultnotyour-_

_Stop, please! You're giving me a headache._

_Serves you right, taking all the blame like that. Greedy, that's what you are._

_But it _is _all my-_

_Don't. You. Even. Say. It._

_…_Sip.

_Hmph. Just for that, I won't tell you that Irvine's waiting for another answer._

Blink, eyebrow quirk, shrug. Irvine continued talking.

_How did you ever manage without me._

_Didn't._

_…Well that explains a lot._

_Don't leave._

_…_

_Please?_

_…Squall, I… oh, sip your coco._

_Can't. Finished it._

_Squall, you're going to have to find other people to care for. There are a lot of people out there, too many if you ask me but what can you do, and a few of them are actually trustworthy. You have to find someone else to lean on, or you're going to drive yourself mad._

_Been there. Done that. Bought the pills._

_I'm being serious here, Squall. Dead serious._

_Uh-huh._

_Think Quistis with-a-cattle-prod._

_Paying attention now._

_Good. Find somebody. Lean on them. I know your track record makes you hesitant, but you need this. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, you know._

_It's not like that, It's more like a few continents, and only on weekdays, and it's more in the upper back region…_

_I can imagine your chiropractor bills._

_I carry those around on the weekends._

_Quistis-with-taser. Industrial strength._

_I _am _paying attention. I'm just happy to have you back, is all._

_And Squall happy is Squall loopy._

_You know it. And I know you're right, it's just…_

_…It's hard._

_…Yeah._

_You've had so many bad experiences, how could a new one be any different?_

_…Yeah._

_And you think you're not worth caring about._

_…_

_I know you do. And I love you, Squall. Always will. Although your head is so full of thoughts and emotional weights that it gets quite crowded up here sometimes, especially when you're in Brood Mode._

_I don't brood._

_Pout. Sulk. Mope. Whatever you angsty people call it._

_Quoting cowboys is bad for your IQ._

_He's not that bad. He just lets his hormones and need-for-support get in the way of his intellect sometimes._

_And we all know Kinneas is the manslut… what do you mean, need-for-support?_

_Oh please, as if that "I'm the best, baby" persona he keeps plastered on his face is the real thing. It's a coping mechanism, I can tell. I should recognize it, considering how many _you_ have._

_No picking on your host, parasite._

_He gets worried that people won't like him, same as you do. He just reacts to it differently. You curl in on yourself and lock everyone out; he acts as if he doesn't give a damn. Like Seifer does… actually, the entire lot of you are a bunch of headcases. Nod at Irvine._

Squall nodded at Irvine. Irvine launched into a detailed account of The Date With Mara Tillany, complete with hand gestures.

_I seem to be the only one who doesn't take the Don't Give a Damn approach._

_You're the only one who's been hurt this many times. But for your sake and health, Squall, you have to give it another chance._

_And another, and another? How many pieces do you want my heart in? Are we talking grinding it cornmeal fine or flour fine?_

_We're talking not giving up. Eventually one will stay. And it'll be worth it._

_It'll never happen and it's never worth it._

_I'm not worth it?_

_…I didn't mean you._

_Because it's different, with humans, right?_

_I don't mean to insult you, and you're my closest friend, Shiva… but…_

_…But… I know. I always know what you mean. You know that._

_I know you always know._

_And I know you know I know, see?_

_But do you know I know you know I know you know?_

_Now you're just trying to bug me._

_…Maybe._

_Love you too. Roll your eyes._

Squall rolled his eyes. Irvine completely agreed.

* * *

Authors Notes By the way, if you read this and still don't understand the ending of Ch 5, it was Quistis in the doorway, bringing Irvine his mission stats. And if you don't understand why Squall suddenly has Shiva back, take a gander at Ch 3, first half. 


	7. Ch 7 Of Reruns and Laundry

Title: Pleasantly Depressed, Ch 7 – Of Reruns and Laundry

Author: Skandranon

Author's Notes Okay, raise your hand if you've written a FF story and been annoyed that your characters never suffer enough b/c they have the wonder Cures? Sounds too much like Godmoding for my tastes. So I added in some made-up facts about Cures to make things a little more interesting.

* * *

There are few things more satisfying than a Perfect Shot. Unfortunately, Irvine didn't have one.

He didn't know if it was the wind suddenly shifting ever so slightly, or if Billy boy did the shifting, or if the gun was faulty, or if it was him that was faulty. The shot went wide and grazed the mark's cheek, tearing off most of his right ear, but hardly doing anything fatal. Now the suits knew he was up there, and he wasn't going to get a second chance.

And to top it all off, Squall decided that meant he should whip out that glorified steak knife of his and pull the "Death from Above" stunt. Irvine had no idea how he managed to do it without breaking his leg.

By the time he reached the bottom of the clock tower stairs and bolted into the street, most of the suits were injured or dead, Billy boy was in pieces, and Squall was limping. _Well, that answers that question._

"Overkill, Squall. Overkill!" he shouted as his shot took off a bodyguard's kneecap. Squall was in no position to argue, and quickly hobbled over to Irvine's shadow. "Broken or sprained?"

Squall winced on one of the steps and bumped into the sniper's back, his weight heavy. "Don't know. Can't use it."

Irvine knew he should have stocked more backup shotgun ammo. He was running out of it faster than he was running out of bodyguards. "Well, we can't Cure you until we find out, unless you want me to have to reset it later. Can you hobble the hell outa here if you lean on my shoulder?"

Gripping his gunblade stubbornly, Squall's glare would have made a behemoth back down. "I'll make it."

_Gotta love it when he goes into Lion mode. The "Come Light or Lunar Cry" attitude, the stamina that just won't lay down and die…oh no, I see where this line of thought is going. What have I told you about doing that, brain? If you don't cut it out, we're going to try electroshock treatment. Girls good. Guys bad. Selphie good. Squall bad…ish. Just call me Engaged!Irvine. Oh shit, I forgot to call Selphie and tell her the mission was delayed…_ "How much do you weigh?"

"What?"

"Weight! Yours! What is?"

"…165."

"Good enough." Slinging his shotgun around so that the leather strap kept it across his back, he turned, picked Squall up, and bolted down the street.

Squall was too stunned to react immediately, much to Irvine's relief. The smaller man wasn't as heavy as he would've thought, but it probably had something to do with adrenaline. He made it about thirty feet before he felt a biting slash across his hip, and fifty feet before a sharper one whipped across his neck. By the time he felt the one across his shoulder, he was at the corner and quickly dove out of range.

After that, it was just running down the empty night streets of Deling, trying to outdistance any cops and being thankful that none of the surviving bodyguards could walk anymore.

He made it about five blocks before his burden decided it had had enough. "Put me the fuck down, Kinneas!"

The grungy apartment building to the left looked suitable enough. Once in the main door, there was a green/brown little hallway with elevators and a table. The table would do. "Putting down. Take off your boots and roll up your pants. Which leg is is?"

"Left. You're hurt."

"Hurt? Oh, right. Cure." He placed his hands gently but steadily on the leg, massaging a bit and trying to ignore the pained "nngh" sounds Squall was making. "Doesn't feel broken. Could be slightly fractured, but a Cura will take care of that." He cast the spell, then checked the leg over again. "Seems good. Try standing on it."

Squall did so, without any hint of pain. "You're still hurt."

Frowning, Irvine put a hand to his neck, and was surprised by the amount of warmth there. Pulling it back, he let out a huff of air in surprise. His hand was completely red, and dripping on the not-so-clean linoleum. Damn, no wonder he felt lightheaded. "Cura." _Too bad instant fixed don't bring back lost blood._

"We can't go outside like this." Squall was right. Both of them were soaked in red. It was seeping through their clothes, matted in their hair, and dripping from their skin. Not as unusual a sight on the Deling streets as you might think, but still likely to cause a stir.

It's amazing how often that happened. _Here I am, a normal, semi-long distance gunner. You would expect me to be able to keep relatively clean, wouldn't you? Sure, the occasional splash of far-squirting blood, or the random flying body part, but no, that's not how it works. Because I'm a semi-long distance gunner who works with short-distance fighters, and dammit all if I don't have to climb into the fray to drag an ass out more often than not. Good thing shotguns are so powerful up close…_

Pacing the hallway, Irvine checked out their new hideout, shaking his head to attempt to dislodge the sudden dizziness he was feeling. "There's a door back here" _or is it two doors? Uh-oh, double vision_ "that probably leads to a janitor closet or laundry room." He tried the handle – unlocked – and peered inside. "Laundry room. You up for sleeping on a dryer?"

"Done worse. I'll take first watch."

Irvine glanced at the black of the doorknob. "Won't have to. It locks. Get your scrawny Squall butt in here."

"Scowling, Squall stalked over… _and that's really all you can call it. Stalking Or possibly slinking…no, he's not the slinky type_ …and selected the clothes hamper in the corner as his perch of choice.

He chuckled and went over to join him, taking the dryer. "Next time, Squall, take the stairs, okay? You're a bit more than I'm used to lifting."

"The stairs would've taken too long."

"No, I meant the…back…stairs…"

And Squall was giving him a pointedly intense stare. "There were back stairs?"

Trying to appear relaxed, Irvine smirked and ran his fingers through his…blood matted and tangled – ow – hair. "Yeah, the…I didn't bother to mention them, since I didn't expect to…I don't miss that often, you know. There was a ladder leading down the back of the tower into an alley. It was supposed to be our escape route."

Breathing a heavy sigh, Squall slumped forward. "You're an idiot."

"Oh?" Irvine smirked, content to have earned at least some type of emotion from the Ice Prince. "Then I guess we're even. Hey, the main thing is, we got the bad guy, right?"

"…"

"Aaaand we're back to the non-talking. Mind if I smoke?"

"Yes."

"Want one?"

"No."

"Suppose you'd rather choose more exciting ways of killing yourself."

"…"

Irvine wince at the sudden coldness on the brunette's face. "Sorry, that was below the belt. Didn't mean it like it sounded."

"…"

He sighed, then got a little worried about how woozy that small action made him feel. "Well…I…at least Billy boy…Harding…person's dead. Still say it wasn't necessary to dissect him…though." Strange, his tongue seemed to be on strike. He knew what he wanted to…say, but when he said it, he didn't say it like he thought he said it…great, now his brain had joined the picket line. Before he could get too annoyed, he felt a solid hand on his shoulder, and looked over to find Squall staring at him with a speculative expression.

"Are you alright?"

Irvine blinked. Ooh yay, spots. "I'm …fine…" And the spots were dancing around in little circles. He wondered if there was a spot party he hadn't been invited to. "Just…the blood loss…thing…I'm a bit…out of it. "Leaning back, he yelped as the room suddenly shifted and went dark and he found himself sliding off the dryer.

* * *

_Goodness, did he hurt himself doing that?_

_Don't know._ Squall hoisted himself off the hamper and knelt beside the fallen cowboy. "You still alright?"

"Mrfa," Irvine stated, then glared suspiciously at the ceiling for a moment. "Nngu," he added after some thought.

Squall shook his head in frustration. _Great, late stage symptoms of blood loss.__ Bet his adrenaline just shut down and he's feeling the effects all at once._

_He's not bleeding anymore, so he should be fine, right? He needs to get some protein into him._

_And some B-12._ "Irvine?" he waved his hand in front of his companion's eyes, but Irvine apparently wasn't in a fully conscious mood. "You've got the aftereffects of blood loss. I'm going to prop your feet up and then go find you something to eat or drink."

"Squall" Irvine pondered, though in his current state is was more like 'Skwa?' "You goin'…lif mear?"

_I can't understand him. Shiva, translate?_

_He said, You're going to leave me? He's not thinking straight, Squall, try to keep things simple for him._

"Just for a little while, to get you something to…drink. _He's not going to be able to eat in his condition._

"Doan…lif…"

_He said, Don't leave. He's probably thinking you're going to abandon him or something._

_Why would he think that? I'd never run off on another SeeD unless it was absolutely necessary._

_Pretend he's a child, Squall. You can't explain things logically to a child._

_The things I do for missions…_ "It's going to be alright, Irvine. I'm coming right back, okay? I'm coming right back." _There, is that better, your icy majesty?_

_Squall, you're doing this for him, not me. Support your team mate._

There were a pair of nearly-empty vending machines in the lobby, stocked with sugary food and drinks and…beer? Squall shook his head. Galbadians are strange. He fished some change out of his pockets, said a mental blessing for Quistis insisting he bring local currency, and chose a bland energy drink with a happy girl on the label. It dropped, and he nabbed it checked the label. Iron, good, protein…it had B-12. Perfect.

He reentered the laundry room and locked the door, then struggled with an uncooperative Irvine to force the liquid down his throat.

"Sahfuu," he protested after the first gulp, then downed the rest quickly enough.

_He said that it's awful, by the way._

When he was finished, Squall let him gently drop back to the tiles. "Are you still dizzy." _So long as he doesn't pass out, we shouldn't have a problem._

Irvine blinked at a spot on the wall as if he had never seen anything like it before. "Flirs code."

_Floor's cold._

_But he's wearing his…coat…_ "Irvine, I need you to sit up. I'm going to take your coat off." With some difficulty and a little aid from the very very damned-heavy Galbadian, Squall managed to drag the offending garment off. _Well, no wonder he's cold. It's soaked through with blood. His neck wound must have been dripping down his back._ A little effort and Irvine was propped against the washing machine, blinking irregularly at Squall as he scavenged the dryer. _Thank you, lazy people who leave their clothes lying around._ He selected a shirt a muted shade of blue and a pair of black jeans for himself, and a forest green shirt and some khakis for Irvine, then dumped the rest in a pile on the floor. He hauled Irvine onto the pile and rolled him onto his back, where he seemed to be quite comfortable now.

Pulling off his own jacket, he fingered a drying stain on the leather. _It's going to be hell to get the red out of the fur,_ he thought with disappointment.

_People dye furs all sorts of strange colors these days. It could be a statement._

_I don't want to make statements. I just want people to leave me the hell alone._ Shaking his head, he stripped off his shirt – which was now an interesting blend of stark white and copper red, kinda like a yin-yang – he donned the new one, then rubbed his chest absently. _Irvine's going to have the GF of back aches when he wakes up, but he's out of the danger levels now._

_Squall, are you injured still? You're in pain._

_No, it's just…aw crap._ In all the rushing, he had missed the beginning pangs of a building attack. The chest pains were of a distracting level now, the waves ramming against his ribs as if to tear them apart. And then they bypassed aggravating level and moved straight into agony level. _Hyne, this is the last thing I need right now…ow._ Struggling to sit down, Squall clung to the side of the washer fervently as he fought to ride out the pain. _It passes, it always does. Just have to hold on until it does. Dammit, where are the pain pills when you really need them?_

_It'll be okay, Squall. I'm going to ask you questions to distract you. Who's the president of Esthar?_

_…Laguna…my father…jeez, pick harder questions…_ The anguish didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. It was swelling, more furious with every breath, and now it had spread to his shoulders and neck. Strangely, he felt the areas going numb beneath the growing sensations. Had it ever been this bad before?

_What is Seifer's last name?_

_Almas…y…_ It was getting difficult to think. His head was numbing now, his mind feeling as if it had been soaked in syrup, and the syrup was congealing. _Shiv…I…_

_Squall? Hold on Squa-

* * *

_

Author's Extra Note "Get your scrawny Squall butt in here." This chapter is dedicated to Scrawny Squall on Cosplay Lab, who is one of the best Squall cosplayers out there. I grovel before your magnificence. Also, information on blood loss symptoms was provided by my good buddypal Mike, who is my very own Squall. Shibby!


	8. Ch 8 Of Penlights and Bedside Manners

Title: Pleasantly Depressed, Ch 8 – "Of Penlights and Bedside Manners"

Author: Skandranon

* * *

Author's Notes - Heeheehee… I wrote this chapter while high on seven cans of Sunkist, at 4 in the morning, after no sleep for two days. I can hear colors.

Time stretched on forever. Such a strange word, time. It has no meaning. After all, what is time? Why do people continue to delude themselves, thinking it exists?

The world was numb and burning in fire. Peculiar, that it can do that. Numbness, after all, is a lack of feeling, while you would need said feeling to sense the burning. Did he feel the burning? It was so difficult to tell now.

Let us assume that he did in fact feel the burning. Then perhaps the numbness wasn't what its name suggested at all, but rather a detachment from sensation. This then would allow the sensation to be felt, but the person would be numb to it, noticing it but uncaring.

Such an odd word, person.

Space had no meaning here. Quite a few things had no meaning here. Furthermore, if space had no meaning here, then how could there be a here? And if time was nonexistent, how could there be a before or after here?

Let us assume time and space do, then, exist, as they must, since there are words for them. Therefore, this world actually did have time and space, as it would have to to be a world and a now, which it was. Thus, the lack of time and space are illusory. That, or time and space themselves are illusory.

Such big thoughts to have on your own. He fondly wished he had someone to discuss them with. However, people did not exist here, or their nonexistence did not exist here.

Such an inconvenience.

It became clear to him that there definitely a now and a here, for he was feeling their effects. It also became clear that he was not numb to sensation, and the burning did in fact reach him. And it _hurt._

_-all?_

Really hurt.

"-all?"

He became aware of a few other things now. Such as, he had a body, and it hurt. And there was light. And it hurt. And people do exist, and he was being spoken to, and the sound _hurt._

"Mm."

Did that sound come from him?

"Ah, how the fallen hero does rise again."

Many things were starting to exist now. Such as memories. He knew that voice, rough and sandy, with an undertone of butter. Irv…the name was escaping him, but he was sure he would capture it eventually. Irvine! Right, with the hat. How could he have forgotten the hat?

"Here's a heads up, Squall. I'm about to hold your eyes open to check your dilation."

And now a female voice, motherly almost. Had a Trabian slang to it. What was Trabian? Agh! Bright light! Light bad!

_Sleep well, Lion mine?_

Hey, numbers existed. That made three people, the last one with a voice like chimes and crystal. And cold.

Hm. He should really try this speech thing.

_Light bad! No light!_

The voice inside…what was a voice doing inside!...chuckled, like a frozen brook that's just now thawing, with ice on top and rippling water underneath. _Don't tell me, tell Kadowaki. Vocal cords. Nervous system controls vocal cords, makes sound. Tongue and lips form words._

_Who are you! Where am I? What is…oh, hi Shiva. What's a vocal co…never mind. How do I-_

_Just try it. You'll figure it out faster than I can explain it._

Oh. Now that he thought about it, it did made sense. "No light!"

Well, that was what he meant to say. He didn't have the speaking process down pat yet, so it came out more like "Nnai."

Wait, what's a Kadowaki? Oh well, worry about it later.

* * *

"He said, 'no light'."

Kadowaki looked up from her ministrations, sizing up Irvine skeptically. "Yes, I know. I know because I see patients drugged or near unconscious states almost every day. I've picked up the drawled accent, thank you."

He snorted and leaned back against the back of the metal chair, shifting until the edge wasn't biting into his spine. "Just trying to help."

Satisfied, Kadowaki dropped the eyelid, flicked off the penlight, and started fussing with a tray of tools. "You want to help? Keep talking to him. We need to lure him out of the coma."

Irvine leaned over the bed, tapping lightly on one of Squall's pale hands. "You missed an interesting ride home. I suppose I'll fill you in on the details later, or let Selphie give you the embellished version."

"Dnmgmase."

He blew a bang out of his face, annoyed. "I'm only fluent in drunk. My post-coma's a bit shaky."

"He said he doesn't give a shit." She cheerfully went about filling pointy objects with mind-altering chemicals.

Eyelashes flickered, then truly batted twice, and the cloudy grey within opened up to the world. "Wermelamai."

"'Where the hell am I'," she translated, then stuck the pointy object into the soft arm. The face that was distantly attached to the soft arm didn't seem to appreciate the gesture. "You're the hell in the infirmary in the hell of Balamb Garden, Commander Leonhart. And before you ask, since I know you'll get around to it eventually, no. You're bed-ridden for at least two more days."

"Dezanu."

She blinked. "Ehm, for some reason, he just said 'Déjà vu'. I hope he's not having delusions, otherwise I'll have to take him off these wonderful painkillers."

The eyelashes fluttered and batted again, only in reverse, and the eyes slid shut. "Kadowaki, he's going under again."

Checking the pulse, she shook her head. "He's out of the danger zone now. Best to let him get some real sleep." Bustling about as only nurses and maids can, she hooked up a sedative to the IV. "Still haven't a clue what took him out in the first place. He has no coma-inducing injuries, no head bumps, no spinal bruises. Only thing I can find is an unusually weak heart, and it's nowhere near trauma levels." She shrugged. "You orphanage kids always make my work difficult."

"Live to entertain," he murmured, and flexed his neck again. Still a bit stiff, but healing.

"You really should get some sleep now that he's stable. I don't like you spending the nights in a hospital chair after injuries of your own. And," she raised a hand to ward off the coming question, "yes I know they're uncomfortable. They're supposed to be. So that people won't spend the nights in them." She sighed. "There's no understanding SeeDs."

You couldn't really get a word in edgewise with Kadowaki unless she asked you for it. With her, you took your pills, ate your pudding, said yes ma'm, and slept when she told you to, or she'd take the choice away.

"Run along now, Kinneas, and get something to eat."

"Yes ma'am."


	9. Ch 9 Of Rules and Digital Clocks

Author's notes If you don't know, Cell Block Tango is a terrific song from Chicago, and is about female prisoners who killed their lovers.

* * *

"And this is my living room, and this is the couch where I'll be sleeping, and in there is the bed where you'll be sleeping and don't you dare say a word," Squall didn't. "The bathroom is through there, and here's my pathetic excuse for a kitchen. And that's pretty much it."

When the orphanage gang returned from Time Compression two years ago, Irvine had found himself roped into an honorary SeeD rank of captain. Along with it came a rank badge, a ceremony uniform which made his height much too obvious, a teaching role he was never cut out for, and his choice of any empty apartment in the Garden. He had spent three days doing nothing but going from room to room comparing specs, before choosing his current home, a comfy little bachelor pad on the far right wing of the dormitories. Smaller than some of the other options, it had one feature that had made the decision for him.

Directly outside the only window was a climbable tree in the training center.

"Rules." Squall gave him a glare, but only crossed his arms and listened. "No messing up the bathroom. You spill it, you clean it up. No touching my beer without permission. No touching the chocolates in the freezer. They're Selphie's." He didn't understand why that girl insisted on using his fridge when she had her own apartment, but her explanation had included the phrase 'furthering our relationship', so he had wisely shut up and let her invade his space.

"You break it, you replace it. Clothes go in the hamper. No wielding gunblade indoors. And rule number one." He lowered his head to gain a more threatening expression. Squall just looked annoyed. "You touch my music, you're a dead man."

The High Commander of the United Garden Forces snorted and slumped onto the couch.

Rubbing his forehead, Irvine stalked back to the kitchenette and leaned bodily against the counter. Squall hadn't said a word since he left the infirmary, and his funk was getting worse with every moment. He paid attention when Irvine spoke to him, but otherwise he drifted into his own head. Irvine was tempted to play Cell Block Tango at full volume to see if it had an effect. One thing he and the Lion shared was a good sense of morbid humor.

"You need to get some stuff from your room?"

"…"

"Toothbrush?"

"…"

"Mabye some pajamas, or are you going to just wear your clothes?

"I sleep nude."

Irvine blinked. "You don't sleepwalk, do you?"

"…"

This had been going on all day. Irvine asks question. Irvine doesn't get an answer. Irvine has to push to get any sort of response. Squall sinks deeper into the brooding. He had promised to look after the guy, but he wasn't a babysitter. What was he supposed to do, read him a bed time story? Tuck him in? Sleep tight, don't let the urge for suicide bite. He did want to help Squall with his issues, but if he spent too much time around the fellow, he'd catch the brooding disease, and then they'd both be miserable.

"Look, I'm supposed to watch you, but I know you'd rather I didn't. And I've got to go see Selphie," and apologize on bended knee for standing her up tonight… again… "so what say you swear to stay right here, avoid all hazardous items and death-based thoughts, and I'll be back in an hour or two?"

About fifteen seconds later he got a nod.

"I'm going to need more than just a head jiggle, Squall." He quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

He could hear and see the teeth grinding, but the word "swear" got past Squall's lips, and that was good enough for him. Grabbing his hat and a beer, he was out the door before either of them could change their minds.

It was probably for the best anyways. Squall always did best when he was alone.

* * *

Silence was a great thing, most of the time. You didn't get in trouble for saying stupid things, people would think you're deep and wise, and people would leave you alone. You had room to think.

Unfortunately, right now that last bit was a very bad thing.

The door slam rattled loose a jab in his chest, one he hadn't felt before.

It took exactly four seconds for the pervading silence to become unsettling. Thirteen more seconds, and the hum of the fridge was blaring in his ear. Twenty one seconds after Irvine walked out, the glow of the lights were giving him a headache. From there it slipped into a routine of pacing, rubbing his forehead, and wondering just how upset the cowboy would be if Squall played some of his music. Anything that he could concentrate on, other than the lights and the fridge and the whirring of the air ducts.

Thirty minutes had passed, and Squall was falling apart. He hadn't noticed until now that since the… incident… on the ledge, Irvine had been a constant in his routine. Hadn't left his side once. With someone so willing to distract him, it had been almost easy to ignore his own thoughts.

_Irvine got tired of you too. Given the option of spending time with the local nutjob or his own fiancee, of course he's going to pick the girl._

He rifled through the magazines in the room for something to focus on, but guns, girls, and weightlifting magazines couldn't hold his interest for long. He searched the fridge for a snack, but nothing invoked an appetite.

_It's your own fault, you know. You drove him away._

Irvine had a collection of philosophy and history books hidden under his bed, but the philosophy was too abstract to understand, and the history was too dry to endure.

_You probably drove the others away too, you know._

One of Irvine's vests was missing a button. He located it in a sewing kit and repaired the damage.

_Damned unlovable, that's what you are._

The clock was a digital, and showed seconds on the bottom right. He stared at it for three minutes and eighteen seconds.

_Just do them all a favor and drop dead already._

_No. I promised._

_So? I promised Ellone I'd wait for her. Then I completely forgot she even existed. I promised Rinoa I'd always be with her, and now she's off somewhere in Deling._

Those musical soundtracks were looking pretty tempting right about now.

He lasted all of eight more minutes before caving, and putting on the first disc that came to hand. The music was soothing, light and vibrant with a lot of brass instruments.

By the time he came to track four, he'd figured out why Irvine didn't want him to play them. Who writes a song about murdering your lover? He picked out another disc.

The first two tracks were decent enough, but the third…was about dying. It listed all the horrible ways this group of people died. Clifford died of natural causes, caught a nasty virus? He jabbed the stop button.

_Maybe life's trying to give you a hint?_

The third disc included a song about suicide, the fourth disc had one about a school shooter. That one was even perky and upbeat. The fifth talked about an abusive husband.

The sixth was a musical about pirates, but by then he was in no mood to listen anymore.

The silence hummed again, louder than before. His heart started beating to the pattern of the clock, which made the tiniest of clicks, invisible until you notice it, then impossible to ignore.

_Am I going to always feel like this? Does it ever get better?_

He wandered his way back to the fridge to gaze at the contents again, locked in his own mind. He kept spinning in a cycle… pain, loneliness, silence, pensive, frustration, desparation, and back again. He rubbed his should again, just like he had the last fourty times. He dragged his nails along the bared skin at the collarbone, adding four more red lines to the collection there. Some of them were bleeding. He knew because it was crusting on his fingernails.

He wasn't sure what he tripped on, only that his hands landed on the cabinets to steady himself, and his fingers landed on a cold smoothness. Startled, he glanced down.

For a brief second of disorientation, he thought it was his gunblade. But it was just an ordinary kitchen knife, laying forgotten next to the empty cheese packet it had probably been used to open.

_If it's not going to get better, then what's the point?_

The knife wasn't humming or ticking or whirring. It just sat there, still and cold and sharp. Silent as the grave.

_Parallel, not perpendicular. Follow the veins._

He picked it up.

* * *

Authors Note : Yep, Irvine's an idiot. On a side note, here's the songs Squall was listening to : Cell Block Tango (Chicago), Spices (Butthole Surfers), Where Did Johny Go (Hansen), I Don't Like Mondays, Two Beds and a Coffee Machine (Savage Garden), and the Pirates of Penzance soundtrack. I own all of these. Why Irvine owns them, I have no idea. 


	10. Ch 10 Of Pillows and Bathtubs

Pleaseantly Depressed – Ch 10

By – Skandranon

Summary – WARNING : Hetero Naughty Stuff! Avert your eyes from the horror! How dare the writer claim to be writing a yaoi, and then deliver het! Kill! Kill! Also, Irvine lets out a rather impressive string of cusswords.

* * *

It was so good to touch Selphie again. Her eyes, her hair, her lips, her breasts…her breasts… every part of her just ached to be touched.

She kept giggling no matter what he did, and squirming besides, but that was par for the course with Selphie. She had her fingers locked firmly in his hair, and didn't show any desire to remove them.

Apologies with Selphie went one of two ways. One, she didn't believe you were sincere and she got madder, pouted, screamed, and demanded more grovelling. Two, she accepted, and wanted immediate make up fondling. This incident had gone the way of number two.

The wriggling wasn't usually this distracting, though. He was lying on top of her, and kept having to rearrange himself to be comfortable. It was rather difficult to properly please your girl when you had to take a brief time out every twenty seconds.

By the time thirty minutes had gone by, he had his mouth around one of her nipples and she was making that odd little cooing noise that meant 'I like that'. Six minutes of tongue work later, and he moved on to the sides of her hips. Four more minutes and he shifted back to her face for a while, nibbling on earlobes and stroking her jawline. Selphie always adored his attention, and he planned to treat her right tonight. Hyne knows he owed it to her for all his recent screwups.

Ten more minutes, and he was playing with her feet. She was terribly ticklish, and squrimed more than ever, but she never told him to stop.

The next three minutes were spent working his way up her legs, paying special attention to the underside of the knees. Two more minutes on the inside of her thighs, and now Selphie was too eager to stay still.

Then he had his tongue inside her. And the next twelve minutes were spent thinking about his class scheduling, his insurance policy, and whether or not the cafeteria coffee had turpentine as an ingredient.

By the time they had moved on to actual intercourse, Irvine's thoughts had shifted back to Squall. How long had it been? Did he need to go back and check on him? Would Squall do anything stupid? Wait, had Squall eaten dinner? Was he sitting up in Irvine's room, alone and hungry, wondering when Irvine would come back so they could get some food?

A pillow whapped him across the face.

"What?" He glanced down, and found Selphie looking rather put out, face flushed, chest heaving, but put out none the less. "What?"

"You stopped moving."

"Oh. Sorry Pixierabbit, just enjoying the sensations." Resuming motion, Selphie's happy, thoughts return to Squall.

Just what was with him anyway? He was worse than usual, but for some reason, only around Irvine. He was fine on the mission, because he would never let his own problems get in the way of his duties, but before and afterwards… maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to leave. The guy hadn't even had any therapy yet.

This time it was a plush moomba that hit him. "You stopped again."

He smirked. "I take it you don't enjoy a little variation in speed." He began thrusting again, chuckling at her little whimper sounds.

He tried to remember just how Squall had looked on the balcony. Frightened, in pain, a terribly fierce emotion hiding behind his eyes. Was that still under the Ice Prince disguise? He'd been trembling, his pale skin goosebumped by the wind, his jacket too short to cover his midsection. Was it the cold that caused that, or the emotions? His lips had been raw and swollen, as if he'd been chewing on them, his eyes brighter than usual, perhaps with tears… his chest…

"Sq-eeelphie!!"

"Ohhh yeah Irviiiine!"

He collapsed beside her, face buried in her shoulder so she couldn't see his stricken expression. They lay together for a few minutes, panting, letting the height wind its way down.

Sweet Mother of All Things Infinate.

"I think I should go check on Squall."

She rolled her head to face him, too tired to shift. "What?"

"Squall. You know, he was injured, and Kadowaki put him in my care. I kinda left him in my room with a promise to stay put, and now I think he's missed dinner."

Her mouth moved as if to protest, but it ended in a sigh. "Go. Take him food."

"Love ya Selliemine." He kissed her forehead, and went in search of his pants.

* * *

It's amazing how much blood a body can hold. It's not so amazing how much blood a bathtub can hold, but it's still pretty impressive.

Knife meant blood, blood meant stains. That much he figured out on his own. So he'd headed for the bathroom immediately. The positioning beside the tub was the tricky part, but he'd figured out a kneeling style that leaned him against a wall for support. Then all that needed to be done was a pair of deep gashes, running down the lengths of the arms, and the redness was only too eager to come flowing out.

He hadn't felt anything in a long time. His world had faded into a soft greyness, devoid of sound, thought, or emotion. It was a wonderful sensation.

The knife had slipped from his hand some time ago, clinking against the porcelin. It lay hidden from sight now underneath the filling liquid. Like losing the soap in a bubble bath.

His head thudded against the tiling on the wall. If he'd been able to feel it, it might have hurt. The only way he knew he'd moved was that his line of sight changed. Now it was at an angle.

He probably should've left an apology for Irvine. Something to the manner of 'Sorry I filled your bathtub with my bodily fluids, it's not your fault I did this, don't let Rinoa know.' He probably should've thought of that before he became to tired to write it.

Of course, he hadn't exactly been thinking at the time.

His vision faded to black. It took him a long moment to realize that his eyes had closed. Not a bad idea, sleep. He was tired enough. When he woke up, he'd be dead. And whatever afterlife there may be better be better than this.

His sense of inertia shifted, and for a moment he thought he'd fallen over. He momentarily worried about spilling onto the floor. But there was a warm pressed against his back, and words in his ears…

"…Burn it all the fucking bitchdogs of ash, you swore…"

Sorry I didn't leave you a note, Irvine. Meant to. Would have.

"Don't you dare die on me, you whoring lier, or I'll pump you so full of lifes your killall teeth will crack."

Don't want to go back to feeling. Hurts too much.

There was warmth all around him, and softness, but he couldn't place it. He tried not to think about it, because warmth and softness were feelings, and after them came pain and aching and desperate need…

Magic surged through him, burning along his nerves. Curagas, he thought absently. Quite a few of them. Irvine must be hurting after doing so many spells so fast.

"Sweet Mother tear your soul, you die and I'll kill myself and come after you, I swear to Hyne."

Normally having a lot of magic spells cast on you at once was an agony to endure, but Squall had a wonderful buffer blocking all of it.

The warmth pressed against him, and his sense of inertia wobbled again as he was lifted. The dizziness threatened to push him into sleep. He didn't see any reason not to let it.

"Hang on Squall, fuck you, hang..."

* * *

Authors Note – (stares at first half) I…wrote…het…porn… (faints) 


	11. Ch 11 Of Fishtanks and Dust

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 11 "Of Fishtanks and Dust"

By – Skandranon

Summary – The first half takes place just after Ch 10, the second half about a week later.

* * *

For some reason, the dripping sound of the IV reminded him of a fishtank. Like the ones at dentist offices, with the exotic fish and the little plastic fake-looking castle. Maybe it was the liquid sound that made the connection. Maybe the clinical surroundings. Maybe the fact that, like the fishtank at the dentist, he found himself staring at it for hours without actually seeing it.

It wasn't like there was much else to look at.

A soft tap behind him, and Kadowaki was peering through the doorway. "Kinneas? I'm closing down the day office. You need anything, you can page me through the intercom."

He made what he hoped was a visible nod. His throat hurt too much to talk anymore. Cussing nonstop for ninety minutes can do that to you.

"I wish you would go on to your room. You're not doing any good here. I put him on a strong sedative; he won't be waking up until morning."

His left leg had gone numb some time ago, but he didn't feel like shifting his position. The pinpricks gave him something to concentrate on.

"Kinneas?"

"-Fine," he managed to grunt.

She sighed and ducked back out. A few moments later, the lights outside his room flickered off, and the sound of a door closing shuddered through the walls and floor.

The tiny lights of the machinery shone brighter in the darkness. Like… stars wasn't the right analogy. Eyes in the darkness… no, he didn't feel watched, quite the opposite. Like… no, they weren't like a candle. Too cold, too sterile. Like…

There wasn't an analogy, was there? They were the little round lights that told you when machines were on. Like on a computer or an alarm clock. They were little round machine lights. Empty of feeling, not really a source of warmth, not meant to be comforting, but somehow they were.

It could have something to do with the fact that they were hooked up to Squall.

He could kill for a smoke.

_You jump, I jump, right? What am I supposed to do, slit my wrists too? He even did it the right way, along the vein instead of across it. Still, that he slit his wrists at all…_

Squall Leonhart was a trained fighter. He'd had a weapon put in his hand before he hit puberty. He'd had a deity shoved in his head before his first kiss. He'd killed his first human being before… fighters didn't slit their wrists. There were so many easier ways to die.

_In the middle of the woods. Sawed off shotgun, in the mouth, aimed up towards the brain, pulse ammo. That's how I'd do it. Horrible mess, but I wouldn't even feel myself pull the trigger. Local wildlife cleans up after me, gives the predators a free meal._

Something was off. Squall carried around a giant sword on a daily basis, and here he was trying to die from a kitchen knife.

He would live, but he probably wouldn't be too happy about it. He'd sink back into himself and brood, let Irvine drag him around for awhile, then as soon as he's left alone…

_You swore. You fucking…I'm too tired to cuss. I'm too tired to be angry. What am I going to do with you, Squall?_

For the first time in… ever… Squall had broken a promise. The idea that it was even possible made him uncomfortable. Two times six had been proven to be thirteen. That kind of uncomfortable.

_You always do best when you're on missions. You can ignore your own thoughts and concentrate on what you're doing. It helps, doesn't it? If I could get you on a mission… it might give you time to heal…

* * *

_

The dust got into his eyes again, and he muttered a curse as he wiped it out. They stung something awful, and they had to be red. But he could still see, and that was what mattered.

According to the map, they should've been there by now. He made a mental note to inform the Estharian cartographers about their mistake when he got back.

"You got us lost, didn't you?" he hollered over the wind.

Irvine had his hat rim pulled low, and a scarf around his face. He didn't look to be having the dust problem Squall was. He hollered something back, but it was lost in muffled translation.

The jeep was one breath away from a junkheap. The engine made a disturbing coughing sound as it started up. There were cracks in the windshield that had nothing to do with loose gravel. But it ran, and when it did, it ran like a pro. Had Irvine taken the road this fast in any other car, he might have been worried.

_There, off to the right._

Squall turned, and spotted what Shiva had pointed out. A shadowed area where there shouldn't be one, a bit too symmetrical to be natural. "The storage compound is at two o'clock!"

Irvine shouted something that could've been "I see it!" The jeep turned off the road, and for a jarring moment it bounced along until it adapted to the new terrain. The wheel axles groaned in protest, but they didn't snap in two. That was a good thing.

A squealing of breaks and a stomach-turning lurch, and the vehicle came to a stop on a ledge overlooking the compound. Irvine put the stick in park and set the emergency break, then lowered his scarf and shook himself off. "Some ride, huh?" His eyes weren't the least bit red, Squall noticed.

He snorted and shook the sand off his notepad. It pooled in his lap and slid down the pleather seat. "If the base is still stocked with anything, it should be in B or C hangar. Odds are it'll be canned foods, paper records, and surplus odds and ends, but keep an eye out for any medical supplies or weaponry, especially explosives. Chances are something or other could've gotten into the compound and set up a nest, so keep your spells ready."

Irvine's face cracked into a wide grin, and he saluted smartly. "Yes Sir!"

"Very funny. Once we're in, you take B hangar, I'll take C. We keep our radios on us, and sound off every five minutes. If you run into something, call for backup. Don't fight it on your own if you can help it."

In the days before Adel and the whole Sorceress mess, Esthar had built and stocked compounds all over the wilderness of the continent. For use as a military base, storage, or civilian protection, it was unclear, but now that the Lunar Cry was mostly taken care of, they were rediscovering and documenting the old underground constructions.

Why Cid had seen fit to rope him into doing mundane field work, he hadn't the slightest.

_At least it gives you something to do, love._

_AND I get to babysit a gung-ho Irvine. What fun._

_He is rather eager, isn't he? Guess you're not the only one glad to be in the field again._

_It might also have something to do with THAT._

THAT was a Ribbed Exeter Stripped, Irvine's new pride and joy. Squall couldn't tell the difference from his old gun, but the cowboy was smitten. He almost made polishing it an erotic display.

_Boys and their phallic symbols. Hop to it, darling. Go forth and wave your big shiny knife around._

_Oh ha ha._

_You know I love watching you work._

_…Okay, that crossed over multiple levels of "Yergh!"_

Irvine was unloading the truck, checking each item against his lengthy list. Flashlights, extra gasoline, camera for whatever reason… what on earth were they going to do with an astrology handbook?... first aid kit, ammo, pulse ammo, fire ammo, more ammo…

_He sure likes to pack heavy, doesn't he?_

_I'm sure it ties into the boys-and-phallic-symbols theory._ "You coming?"

The cowboy glanced up, pausing in the middle of lifting a box of grenades out of the jeep. "Oh. Yeah. Just making sure the truck doesn't blow up while we're gone. I'm pretty sure I left a can of nitro glycerin in the glove compartment."

He slapped his forehead, unconsciously inching away from the vehicle. "You didn't."

"Joke, Squall."

"…Oh." He rubbed at his ear, then realized that it wasn't them that was ringing. "Do you hear a whistling sound?"

Irvine's head tilted to listen. "Yeah, I do… sounds like a…ohshitMOVE!"

He shoved Squall out of the way just as the ground erupted.

* * *

Author's Notes – Seriously, IVs remind me of aquariums. 


	12. Ch 12 Of Closets and Propaganda

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 12 – Of Closets and Propaganda

By – Skandranon

Warnings – Quite graphic, though I don't go into detail describing it.

* * *

_Damn, my arms hurt._

_…Of course they hurt, with that angle. What are they doing behind my back? Wait…this does NOT feel like a bed…more like concrete…aw Hyne, don't tell me I've been captured._

_I hate being captured. Okay, wake up Irvine, do you hear any baddies?_

_………No, no baddies. Air's not moving, so no AC vents. Got handcuffs on, and damn do they hurt. Keep your breathing steady. Don't want anyone watching to know you're up'n about._

_I think my legs are tied. Ooh, okay, headache, that explains the captured part. I don't think there's any lighting in here…might chance a peek…_

Irvine opened his eyes a slit, then a bit wider. The only light in the cell streamed in from under the door, which looked to be heavy lead. Otherwise, everything was concrete. Just a tiny little closet with empty shelves and a spider in the corner.

_They rope tied my legs…did a pretty impressive job too, must have experience. Good thing Selphie's not here, she'd want pointers. No gag, so either they thought I'd stay out longer, or there's no one to hear…well of course there's no one to hear._

There weren't any cameras in the closet, hidden or otherwise, so he stretched against the bonds. They held, but allowed a bit of motion. If he bent his legs and arched his back, he could…almost…touch his feet…

_Wonder what they did with Squall? Maybe he didn't get caught…'s gonna be burnin' embarrassing if he has to rescue me. But…they had a cursed ballista launcher, of all things. They hit the jeep, I know it…should've left the grenades home…_

An image of Squall, broken and bloody in a ditch somewhere, flashed through his head._ No, I pushed him out of the way. Captured or free, he's alive._ He struggled a bit harder.

_If I can just reach the sole of my boot…Argh, this aches…_

His fingers touched rubber, and he scraped at it until his fingernails dug into the seam. The rubber plug in the heel peeled off, and a little shake of his foot dropped the hidden pocketknife.

_Well, they can't be that good if they didn't take my shoes. Just might stand a chance. _

It took a great deal of shifting about until the knife was in his hands, but after that it was a cinch to…

…

…_Okay, now what…_

_…Maybe if I could reach my legs…urk…no, can't reach…well maybe I could hold it in my mouth…but still can't reach…_

He flopped around and made "grk"ing noises for a while, just for the sheer hell of it.

_Think, Kinneas. All I've got to work with is this little knife. All the knife has is two blades. Doesn't even have a charred toothpick. Knew I should've gone for one with all the little doodads…I mean, there's gotta be a use for a corkscrew in a situation like this._

_Hope Squall's having more luck than I am. I took most of the blast, right? So maybe he wasn't concussed…maybe he's alright, and storming the bunker like a one-man army at this very moment. Yeah, first he'll take out the ballista with a sneak attack…then he'll drop the door guards, if there are any…then he'll just take out anything in his way. Torture the leader to find out where I am; break down the door with a spell blast…_

The door stayed right where it was. Just to mock him.

_Least he's better off than I am, wherever he is. Maybe he holed up somewhere and called for reinforcements. Bleeding a little, 'cause you don't get out of a ballista strike uninjured, but no major or hindering wounds. Stay put, Squall. I'll be fine, for day or two it takes backup to arrive. Don't do anything crazy like trying to save me on your own._

_Aw Hyne, that's just what he'd do, isn't it?_

_Maybe he's dead. Fatal injury from the blast, or killed by the whoever-they-are... maybe he's badly wounded…or dying…gotta get out of this burning linen closet…urgh, face it Kinneas, you're stuck._

He played with the knife for an hour.

_…Big blade…small blade…big blade…small blade…one blade…two blades…one blade…_

_…Wait a sec…_

He shuffled back until he was pressing against a leg of the shelf, and slid out both of the blades, in opposite directions. Wiggling a bit more to get in the right position…

…He jammed the small blade into the wood as hard as he could manage. It stayed put under gentle test flicks.

_Now to roll over…get my ankles up near the knife…_

He had to replace the knife four times before the ropes sawed loose, but they did. His legs were free.

_Yes! Now I just gotta figure out a way to get out of the handcuffs…_

He yanked out the knife and wobbled to his feet, scanning the cramped room for…

_Oh you gotta be kidding me._

There on the top shelf, just about head height, lay a paperclip.

_Didn't think I could get to it, all the way up there? Sounds like a challenge._

He tucked his knee under a shelf and pulled. The whole thing tilted, and the paperclip slipped to the floor.

He flopped around and made "grk"ing noises. He eventually got the handcuffs off.

_And Irvine Kinneas outsmarts the baddies. Now…_

_How do I get the door open?

* * *

_

Squall doubled over, coughing up blood.

The blond fellow scratched his hair, his nose wrinkling in annoyance. "I don't think he's gonna talk, dude."

The resistance leader turned a page in his book, not bothering to look up. "You call me dude again and you can take his place. Keep going."

On the table next to the leader's collection of right-wing-nutjob-propaganda-books lay a black leather cowboy hat. Some of the book titles were rather funny. Things like _The Equality Conspiracy_ and _What Your Government Hasn't Told You._ You had to be in a position to appreciate it. Squall wasn't.

He kept coughing, the spasms taking on a mind of their own, refusing to stop. Something inside felt broken and wet, and grated when he moved. Plus, his wrists were killing him.

"Tarry", as he was called, backhanded him a couple more times for good measure. Squall's head jerked from side to side, and something in his jaw popped. "Man, I seriously don't think he's talking. Can I stop now?"

Tarry got bored easily.

"Don't call me 'man'. Keep going."

"I'm going to be washing blood out of my clothes for weeks," Tarry grumbled, and picked up the taser.

The chair Squall was tied to was leather padded and could swivel around. The leather was mildewed and faded from its original crimson, but it was still very comfortable. It had been Tarry's chair before their base's perimeters had been breached by a pair of fellows toting a platoon's worth of weaponry. Tarry had wanted to tie the short brunet to the wooden chair, but Marston said no. Marston always said no. No smoking, no drinking, no women. Being a rebel almost sucked. The rocket launchers were fun, though.

And now he had his very own Ribbed Exeter Stripped. The sweetest little gun you could ever want. 3 round bursts, delayed recoil, top-notch scope, less than 10 pounds, 2,000 rpm, and at 750 mm, the entire thing could fit in a briefcase. It was worth having his knuckles ache from too many punches.

The rest of the group was playing Triad. Junip was winning, as usual. They'd come up with a new way to play tonight; the intruder's deck was set in the middle, and each winner got to keep whatever card was on top. Lanneck was grinning like a moron ever since he drew Krysta.

"Seriously guys, can't somebody else hit him for awhile?"

"No way, Tarry," Sten growled, laying down a Bomb. "We already took our turns."

"Hey Junip, I'll give you the gunblade for your Catoblepas."

"No deal."

"Hey, come on, it's a really cool weapon."

"It's a really good card."

Tarry sighed and jabbed the taser into Squall's shoulder. Squall thrashed in the chair, teeth grinding his bottom lip until it bled. His hands clawed at the armrests cutting furrows in the soft leather. "You guys suck. You better save me some cards, or I'll put some bullet-sized holes in your hides."

"Talk, talk," Lanneck snorted.

"Keep it down," Marston stated. "Some of us are reading."

"Maybe we should try the other guy," Junip murmured, laying down his Red Giant. The rest of the group groaned and dropped their cards.

"We haven't even hit this one in the nuts yet. Tarry, hit him in the nuts."

"No way! I'm not sticking my hand there!"

"With the taser, moron."

"Oh." Zap.

Lanneck chose to give up on the game, and instead fiddled with the sphere he'd won earlier. It glowed from within with a blue tint, the colors shifting ceaselessly. "How do you think you get it back out?"

"You draw it," replied Marston. He followed the script with a finger.

Lanneck shifted it from hand to hand, and rolled it in his palms "How do you do that?"

"Put it down."

Tarry yelped in surprise and leapt back, taser still clutched in his hand. He hadn't expected the guy to still be able to speak. "What, NOW you've got something to say?"

"Put," Squall gasped between convulsions. "It. Down."

The room got quiet, all attention towards their prisoner. Marston put down his book and came to crouch beside Squall, eyes glinting viciously. "We'll do what we like with our trophies."

Squall shook his head, glazed focus flitting wildly. "She's not yours."

"She? Attached, are we?"

"She's not yours."

"Isn't she?"

"She's n-" he choked for a moment, the blood seeping down his throat, "-yours."

Tarry set the taser on the table, suddenly very nervous. "Does he know he's repeating himself?"

Cough, choke. "-ot yours."

Marston smirked. "Congratulations, Tarry, you broke him."

"I didn't do it!"

Sten whapped him over the head. "It's a good thing, idiot."

Waving for them to shut up, Marston turned back to his captive and found himself staring into insanity.

"Put. Her. Down."

* * *

Authors Note – The "Ribbed Exeter Stripped" is based on a real gun called the Heckler and Koch G11/Advanced Combat Rifle, and the specs are accurate. My thanks to Mike (my own personal Squall) for this info. 


	13. Ch 13 Of Chair legs and Hallways

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 13 – "Of Chair legs and Hallways"

By - Skandranon

WARNING: First half contains VERY graphic violence. Quite a bit of cussing and some gruesome descriptions. If this bothers you, skip down to the second half, and just assume that Squall got free and beat them up.

* * *

Red dripped from his lip in a steady rhythm, like a leaky faucet, like a base guitar. Drip drip drip drip. Four beat pattern. Beat beat beat beat.

The haze in his mind wouldn't let up. Muted shades of anguish and the burning of his skin. Make it stop…

His wrist snapped as it broke free of the handcuffs, and it snapped again as it broke the leader's nose. A quick twist of the hips and the chair cracked against the blond.

An abrupt kick and the chair splintered in two.

Make it stop…

The leader held the morale of the team, and was the obvious first target. A jab to the neck pressure point, a kick to the groin, and the palm of his hand smashing up into his jaw. Leader down. Shove him down, step on the neck, twist to make sure he stayed down. Still have the edge of surprise; still have the time for superfluous movements.

The throbbing caught his breath, and he surged. Fucking bastards thinking they could take him down, he'd make them pay. Tear them apart, make them scream. Where'd they put that taser…

…Shiva, have to find Shiva. Can't think, can't breath, it hurts…they took her, locked her in a sphere. His legs spasmed as he collapsed to the floor.

And he was up, and facing the tallest of the men. He had brute force and height as an advantage, and the others were hanging back. Morale was down. A feint left, but the man knew that trick. Never mind, follow through with it. The man grabbed his arm and pulled it out of socket, but the other arm was wrapped around his neck and squeezing.

Suffocating too good for you, bastard. Slice you open with those cards you love so much. Paper cuts of death, and forget pouring salt on the wounds, let's go for the battery acid. Make you shred your own vocal cords screaming.

His veins had electricity running through them, jarring his bones. His chest convulsed, and he swallowed to keep the blood back. His vision blurred… darkened… they were standing over him, the concrete so cold… need Shiva…

He shot a hand out and gripped the youngest man's leg. A swift yank and he went down yelping. A twist and the bone broke, and now he was screaming. He kicked out and took another in the knees, the pop of a dislocation audible. Pushed off the floor and used inertia to swing backwards, get away from the group and get some room to move. With them having the advantage in numbers, he couldn't let them surround him.

Like dogs, all of them. Bloody curs growling for a bone. He could grow too. He could roar. Wolf pups thinking they could take on a Lion. He'd send them yipping home for their bitch He'd already taken down their alpha, and now he'd finish off the rest of them. Slowly.

But it hurt so much. His fingers twitched with the pain, reaching for something that wasn't there. Have to… have to…chest pounding…head pounding… make it stop, someone make it stop…

Block the punch, turn into the motion, and a chop across the back of the neck sent the taller man reeling into the wall. Throw the table at him to keep him there. The black haired man was next, the only one with any fighting training worth speaking of. He'd hung back so far, observing with cold eyes. He needed to be taken down before he could learn enough to have the advantage. Pick up a fragment of the broken chair, edge sharp…

…And charge. A snarl left his throat as he flung himself at the man. You did this to me, you sick bastard. I'll rip your balls off. I'll break your skull. Hold still, let me put this shiny object through your spine.

The man parried and knocked his legs out, and the cold concrete stole his thoughts. He could hear someone yelling. A glint of blue to his left… Shiva…

He clawed at his attacker's face, and snapped his teeth for the throat. Blood streaked in lines as the man cursed… damn right you should curse. I'll tear your eyes out. Make you eat them.

A punch in the soft side of the skull took the black haired man down. Pushing the metal stake his back kept him down.

His head ached so. He found himself longing for aspirin…morphine… a gun…

The short one had his gunblade, the little prick. He was trying to use it to shield himself, but he could barely lift it. It was enough to make you laugh. So he did.

Gunblade met the rest of the chair, flung from a distance. Books followed, and a shove had the bookshelf toppling over. The short one dodged, but that put him in the path of an attacking SeeD and his handcrafted weapon. Duck in under the clumsy swing of the gunblade and…

His heart was screaming at him…oxygen, pain killers, Something! He moaned and wrapped his arms around his middle, and he could swear his eyes were bleeding -

Roll into the blow to his back, somersault out of the way. Tuck a leg around the man's knees and pull him down. Bend of the spine, and you can reach to put the stake through his eye. Plunge, tear out, plunge in the other eye, tear out, drop the stake, hands on either side of the head, a quick twist. Short one down.

Something in his head was screaming. Something was dripping. Something hurt. Something was missing. But he couldn't find it in the pain. Hyne, it hurt. Make it stop…

And now the loud one's all alone. Poor puppy, all your friends are bloody pools around your feet. Look at you, hiding in the corner, trembling like a puppy in the cold. Scared, aren't you? You should be scared. You baited the lion. Lions eat puppies like you.

Squall picked up the taser.

* * *

He was decidedly lost.

Irvine trudged down the dull, featureless corridor, which bore a remarkable resemblance to the last twelve he'd trudged down. You'd think they'd put signs on the walls, the place being as large as it was. Bathroom 2 kilometers to the left, kitchen 3 kilometers to the right.

What was mostly relieving and slightly worrisome was that he hadn't run into anyone since his escape. Their attackers must either be short on manpower, or really stupid. Irvine was praying it was the latter, since they clearly had a rocket launcher. He shrugged to himself. There were no windows in this place; maybe it was nighttime. Maybe they were all asleep.

He occasionally heard shouts echo in the distance, and he'd jump into the shadows, clutching his flimsy pocketknife fiercely. But then they'd fade again, and after a tense moment or two he'd try to figure out which direction they had come from. If the attackers were shouting, then they didn't consider themselves in any danger. Probably goofing off, having a party or something. And even the infrequent sounds had lapsed an hour ago. Maybe they really were all asleep.

He couldn't find the exit, he couldn't find the baddies, he couldn't find Squall… how was he supposed to rescue him if he didn't even know where he was? He came to another fork in the path, and automatically took the left fork. That was what his teacher back in Galbadia had told him to do in situations like this. "When lost in a mazelike interior, always turn in one direction." It had certainly come in handy in the Unknown Tomb; it could come in handy here.

A sound up ahead, and Irvine darted for the nearest cover, a wall reinforcement beam. He pressed himself into the shadow as best he could, thanking his luck that this part of the bunker was poorly lit. If it couldn't see him, it couldn't shoot him. As he held himself still, the sound sharpened into the distinct tread of boots, walking at a steady pace in his direction. Finally, he'd run into someone.

The steps remained at the same speed, and he tried to decipher the sound. Large person, or someone carrying something heavy, from the deepness of the echoes. Casual slow pace, so probably a patrol. The person wasn't expecting trouble, which meant they hadn't spotted Irvine yet. This was good. The "carrying something heavy" part was what worried him. Automatic weapons were heavy.

Five feet… three feet… the person walked by the beam, and Irvine snagged his shoulder, bringing his knife up to the throat… and found himself staring at an even bigger blade.

"Squall! Hey! Great Hyne, what happened to you?"

Squall looked like something the wendigo got to, as the saying went. Clothes torn to fragments, blood everywhere… surely not all of it was his. Burn marks? One eye swollen shut, a choco egg on his forehead… hey, that was his hat! Squall was wearing his hat! And grinning like an imp. What in the world…

"Hey Irvine."

"What happened to you!"

Squall shrugged, blinked, and the grin dropped. "Nothing. Let's go."

Irvine snatched his hat and nearly missed the red orb tossed his way. What the… oh, a GF sphere. "Heya Ifrit." He drew, and felt the familiar burning in his head. Ifrit was glad to see him too, no doubt.

He had to drop the empty sphere to catch the next item, which turned out to be his Exeter. He quickly planted his hat on his head to free up both hands for his baby. "Don't you be throwing my gun around, these things are fragile! You can't just resharpen them like a gunblade."

"Let's go."

"Bet you didn't bother to bring me any ammo."

"Let's Go."

"Right, right." Squall on a mission was not to be bothered. Irvine took his obedient place in line, falling into step as he checked his rifle over. No damage, thank goodness. Someone had even thought to polish… someone had been polishing his baby! If they were still alive, he was going to…

"Don't suppose you left me anyone to shoot?"

"They're all dead. Let's go."

"Got off lucky," he grumbled, and patted his baby comfortingly. "S'allright, sugar, Irvine'll take care of you when we get home."

Squall stopped and glared back at him. "What?"

"Hush, I wasn't talking to you."

"Oh." Squall blinked, and turned around. "Let's go."

Irvine grinned, his spirits looking a lot better than ten minutes ago. "Course if I was, I wouldn't call you 'sugar'. You're not feminine enough for 'sugar'. I'd call you 'darling'."

"Put thought into this?"

Irvine swallowed the 'yep' that wanted to be said. "Just saying, is all. Hm, maybe you are feminine enough for 'sugar'."

He found a gunblade at his throat a moment later.

"I'm not your sugar."

"Easy easy! Didn't say you were! Hyne, Squall, put that down!"

Squall blinked, then lowered the gunblade and stalked off down the hall, turning the corner just ahead. Rubbing his neck, Irvine followed and winced as the light hit his eyes. "Agh, what… hey, how'd you know how to get us out?"

"I memorized the map," a voice somewhere ahead said. "Let's go."

Irvine opted to wait until his vision cleared, and soon the barren exterior came into focus. It included an impressive amount of jeep debris. Noticing one of the tires nearby, he stalked over and kicked it. "They killed the jeep."

Squall was busy dragging a bag out of the wreckage. "No transportation. What did you do with the radio?"

Irvine groaned. "It was in the jeep."

Squall nodded, and dug out the remains of the map. "Esthar is three days walk west of here."

"_Walk_ to Esthar!"

"You have a better idea?" Squall growled. He flexed his fingers on his weapon's grip.

Irvine meekly shook his head.

Squall blinked, and stood up. "Three days. Let's go."

"Let's go let's go let's go, I'm going, I'm going. Sweet Mother."

* * *

Author's Notes – That "always turn left" rule really did work on the Tomb of the Unknown King. Also helped me figure out the sewers under Deling. 


	14. Ch 14 Of Hats and Hoverails

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 14 – "Of Hats and Hoverails"

By Skandranon

* * *

"Three days."

"Shut up."

"Three mother burning days."

"Shut Up."

"'We should take the valley pass,' I said, 'We can stay close to water,' I said. But nooo, 'We have better vantage point from high terrain,' you said."

"Shut. Up."

"Nobody listens to me. I'm just the sniper, what do I know? Only been trained to kill people in cold blood with no remorse and resist the need for therapy for it. I murder for a living and I like my job. But nooo, I couldn't possibly know about wilderness terrain. I couldn't have possibly grown up in the backwoods of Galbadia and learned how to survive outdoors before I could shoot. I can ride a bucking chocobo, I can cook a divine barbecue, and I can leech poison from an anacondaur bite. But does anyone notice this? Of course not. 'He's just a gunman, what does he know about finding magnetic north or tracking game or testing water for purity?' We should all ignore him and do really stupid things and then make him have to rescue us from certain death!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"My feet hurt, Squall. And they've been trained to suffer through a hell of a lot before they hurt. I haven't had anything to drink in a day and a half. My coat is chafing, my hair itches, and if I don't see something female in the next fifteen minutes I'm going to start fondling my gun."

"You already fondle your gun."

"Nooo, that's caressing. Petting, nuzzling. Fondling's more…like this."

"…I did NOT want to see that."

"You're just jealous you don't have a gun to fondle."

"Oh?"

"…Squall, you are NEVER to do that to your gunblade in my presence again, do you hear me?"

"Mine's bigger than yours."

"Oookay, we've been in the sun too long. Let's just quit the jabber and get to Esthar."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…That's it. I'm going to fuck my hat."

"..."

"I don't know how I'm going to do it, but by Hyne is my witness, I'll find a way."

"Irvine..."

"I couldn't get stuck on a mission with Selphie, noooo, that would be too easy. No Selphie play time for Irvine. No kissy face with the love of my life who is currently pissed with me because something, I'm not saying what but it rhymes with fissions, keeps interfering with our fun time. No relief for the poor engaged guy. No, he's got to suffer. The Gods are laughing at me."

"Shiva certainly is."

"You can tell the ice queen she can kiss my shiny perfect backside."

"She has better taste than that."

"How could she? She chooses to live in YOUR head."

"..."

"Feeling cramped in there, Shiva? Must be horrible being shoved between the angst half of the brain and the 'grr killit' half, with broody thoughts flying all over the place. Wanna come live in my head? Guarantee you I only have one thing on my mind at all times."

"She prefers more intelligent conversation."

"I can be intelligent. I AM a SeeD Officer, you know, just like you. And despite what some people think, I didn't earn that by riding your coattails."

"No, you spent most of the war chasing Selphie's tail. And Rinoa, and Quistis, and at one point I KNOW I saw you eyeing Zell."

"I did not. He's far too hyper for me."

"You're engaged to Selphie."

"…Point. But I prefer my boys a little more grounded."

"…Your boys?"

"…Shit. Um-"

"Your boys. You prefer your boys. I KNEW you called me handsome."

"I did no…I'm engaged, okay? To a girl. Subject closed. Moving on."

"Hyne no. You're bi. Admit it."

"Do we seriously have to get into this in the middle of a barren wasteland?"

"Yes."

"Shut up."

"No."

"Shut Up."

"No."

"Shut. Up."

"Make me."

"That's it. When we get back to Garden, I'm telling Kadowaki."

"You're not."

"I am. I swear. Unless you shut up about it."

"…"

"…Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I didn't earn my rank by riding your coattails. No, I was right there beside you fighting my way through the baddies. Who was it that rescued you from that prison? Huh? The one that looked like giant screws?"

"Rinoa had to drag you there by your genitals."

"I was going to come help you guys, I just wanted to form a plan first. But nooo, Rinoa's all 'I wanna save the bishie right now or die trying!' And if it wasn't for me, she would've died trying. And that wasn't the only time I hauled your butts along as I did all the work. Who was they called on when Edea needed assassinating?"

"You missed."

"I didn't miss! I did. Not. Miss! She had a bleeding forcefield! You told me it was okay if I missed! You said it was just a signal!"

"Irvine, your voice is loud enough to echo. Tone it down."

"Yes, oh Commander of the United Gardens! Your mightiness of the Gunblade and the Sorceress Knight and the scar! How dare this lowly sniper attempt to talk back to YOU?"

"Irvine."

"How dare he try to-"

"Irvine."

"-a little respect from the people he-"

"Irvine."

"-from childhood? The same people that-"

"Irvine"

"-even remember him when they met him a-"

"IRVINE."

"WHAT!"

"Thank you."

"…What?"

"For shooting Edea. You knew who she was, and you still shot. Thanks."

"…Um…"

"Let's just get to Esthar."

"…"

"…"

"…Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"…Um, thanks."

"Yeah."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…Agh dangit, stupid blisters…"

* * *

Esthar was a magnificent city. Towering buildings that gleamed smooth metal and sophistication, ringed by bustling walkways and humming hoverails. Everything glowed in one way or another, from the reflected sun or by artificial light. Not a straight edge was to be seen, in the sea of soft curves and delicate arches.

And it was blue. All of it. Blue. Somewhere there was an Estharian architect cult devoted to the destruction of all things not blue. He wondered what their opinion on turquoise was.

It was also very shiny. It hurt his eyes.

After eating close to nothing for half a week, staying upright on a moving hoverail was a close to impossible feat. Squall managed it with the aid of leaning on his gunblade, but Irvine found himself on his back or his front at every stop. And he'd drag himself to his feet and pointedly ignore the pain in his legs and back and pointedly ignore the glares or puzzled looks of the pristine locals as they took in his bedraggled state. _Let them gawk. I just want a shower, a bed, some food and some painkillers. Not necessarily in that order._

The guards at the gate to the Palace didn't seem to like them very much. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with how much dirt they were caked in. Or that they toting weapons and wearing very grumpy expressions.

"Look. Just call up Laguna. He'll vouch for us. Tell him it's Squall Leonhart and Irvine Kinneas. You know what, forget that, just say the name Squall to him and see how fast he lets us in."

The younger guard reached for the gate phone, but the older stopped him. "No one enters the palace today except on party business." He even managed to keep the sneer on his face to a minimum, and kept his eyes firmly on their faces and not their filthy clothes. Clearly well trained. "President Loire holds the Annual Liberation Ball tonight, and if you're not on the help list, you don't get in. Sorry."

"Squall. Leonhart. The name doesn't sound familiar to you. Hyne, on any other day he'd be on the guest list."

"Sorry."

Squall fended off Irvine when he tried to grab the gunblade and wave it around for proof. "Let's just go."

"Hyne no. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm dirty, and we don't have any money for a hotel. Look, just call-"

"Irvine. Let's go."

Irvine would've argued more, except Squall was already walking away from him. He snorted and pointed his finger back at the guards as he followed. "Betcha fifty gil you get a pay dock for this."

But at the edge of the palace wall, as the guards turned to talk to one another, Squall snagged his arm and dragged him into the side alley. "Fuck them. We're getting in."

"How? Don't suppose you have Laguna's cell number. You could just call him and say 'Hey, we're right outside, surprise!'"

"If we had a phone." Squall eyed the wall critically. It rose some fifteen feet above their heads, ending in graceful but sharp spikes.

"Oh no. You're out of your mind."

But Squall was already removing his gloves. "Take out the camera."

"Like faith I'm taking out the camera! You are aware this is your father's palace we're trying to break into?"

"Take out the camera."

"You have a bad habit of doing that. I'm not taking out the camera."

"Fine. Hold this." The gunblade was shoved into his hands, and he could only watch as his friend began to scale the wall.

"You're gonna get us killed…" he groaned, and reluctantly fired a quick ammo at the security camera. The longer they stayed undetected, the more likely they could get to someone who would recognize them before the defense team stuck them full of holes.

Squall quickly reached the top and planted himself between two spikes. "Throw me the weapons."

Wincing at the prospect of tossing sharp objects, Irvine lobbed the gunbade up just as the sirens started blaring. Squall caught it neatly. But there was no way he was throwing his gun. He tucked it into its proper pouch and scrambled up the pale cream stones. _Plenty of fingerholds, must remember to point that out to the security once we're not the intruders._

Irvine reached the top, and flinched as shots rang out. They were easy targets up here, visible from all sides. He threw himself over the edge and into the garden beyond.

Directly below were flower bushes of the non-thorn variety, and their soft leaves gave him one of the most comfortable landings of his career. He didn't have much time to appreciate it, though, as his attention focused on the machine gun pressed to his forehead.

"Hi." Laguna stated calmly. "I'd suggest you not move."

Then Squall landed just behind him, and Laguna's face broke in half with a grin. "Squall! You came to visit! You're filthy! You're here! Why didn't you just come in the front door? Neat entry, though. I take it this guy's with you?"

"That's Irvine," Squall wheezed, the air knocked out of him from the fall.

"Irvine! Squall's buddy! Welcome! Sorry, didn't recognize you with all the dirt. Hey guys, it's okay, it's just my son!" The security force clicked the safety onto their guns in unison, and Kiros rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'in the genes'. "Hey, so glad you could make it for the Ball! Though we'll have to clean you up a bit beforehand, no offense or anything, just that some of the people attending are stuffy boring politician types. Soon as I get you settled, though, I'm going to come back out here and try climbing that wall. Dunno why I've never done it before, looks like fun. Are you guys hungry? We could sneak some of the party snacks and Kiros will never know even though he's just standing over there. Actually, Kiros, why don't you sneak the snacks for us and pretend it's me doing it? Then you can complain to Ward about how annoying I can get. You guys want a bath or food first? ….What?" he asked in puzzlement at Irvine's dazed expression.

"You're… not related to any Tilmitts, are you?"

"Tilmitt? Oh, that sweet little brunette friend of yours. Hey, Squall told me you got engaged, congratulations! No, no Tilmitts in the family. Had an aunt Tillany, crazy old coot, liked cats. Why do you ask?"

* * *

Author's Note – Irvine stressed is not Irvine friendly. I'm actually basing Laguna off a person I know. Tremble in fear. 


	15. Ch 15 Of Bubbles and Ripples

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 15 - "Of Bubblesand Ripples"

By Skandranon

* * *

_Squall? Talk to me. Squall, talk to me, please?_

The hall echoed with the murmurs of hundreds of people, the clinking of champagne glasses, the strumming of a string quartet, the click of a hundred high heels. Overhead, the large ball room of the palace was strewn with strings of glass crystals, shattering the light of the chandeliers into a thousand bright stars.

Squall glared at the canapé as if it has mortally insulted him. He was not in a good mood, to say the least, and hadn't been in one since…

…since…

_Squall? Please?_

Laguna kept insisting on dragging him – quite literally – around the hall to introduce various beurocrats and nobles to "my son, the war hero".They kept asking for stories. They kept hinting at future dealings with Garden. They kept trying to make him taste the canapé. He didn't _want_ to taste the bloody canapé.

Irvine was in the same spot he'd been all night… on the dance floor, on the arm of this or that wealthy lady. He smiled, laughed, and spun them about the marble floor, and spun out tales of past heroics to make their eyes sparkle with excitement. Their mud-caked clothes had been sent for a heavy washing, and they'd been given a pair of ceremonial uniforms to wear instead. Every time Irvine stepped into a pivot turn the gilded chains clinked.

_Squall, you're sick. Something's wrong. You have to tell someone that something's wrong._

And to top off a perfect evening, his ears kept buzzing.

"-but being just the silly journalist I was, I thought the thing was a clever special effect!" Laughter to his right, as a small crowd listened attentively as Laguna embellished his tale with gestures and body language. "So I took my flimsy prop blade and whacked it across the snout. Imagine my surprise when it opened its mouth and roared at me!"

"Get Senator Heral away from the punch bowl, he's had far too much to drink already," Kiros dictated into a headset to his left, using his location in the corner to watch the floor for problem spots. "And keep an eye on Lady Godanaz, someone's bound to step on that long train of hers and tear her gown."

"Simply lovely this time of year, don't you think?" The middle aged woman in the orange dress kept pestering him with chatter. For some reason or other she'd attached herself to his side. "I usually spend this season at my estate up in the mountains, wonderful views, but I have a cousin getting married soon, so I came to the city to help her manage the wedding."

"By that time the camera crew had fled, and it was just me facing down this huge dragon! I had no idea what to do, without my weapon or any backup, and just aluminum armor and a cardboard blade to protect me. So I hit it again…"

"Unit three, the lady in the white with the pink bow has left her purse on the left wing buffet, have it taken to her. Unit two, catch that child before it walks out the right wing doors. I believe it's the son of Colonel Adren. No, Adren. The one with the medals. The _other_ one with the medals."

The lady-of-the-moment that Irvine was twirling whispered something in his ear. He ducked his head in amusement, and whispered something back. It couldn't have been what she wanted to hear, for now she was pouting, but in a playful manner.

"I simply can't stand staying in the city for too long a period. Too much bustle for my tastes. Too many people. But Elie wanted to have the ceremony at this beautiful cathedral in town, and of course it is her wedding."

_Squall!_

He had such a headache. Too much light, too many people, too much noise…too much noise…

"It had me pinned up against a cliff wall, glaring down at me like I was the tastiest thing it'd ever seen. Big, big yellow eyes just sizing me up for nutritional value. So I poked it in the eye with what was left of the sword…"

"Kitchen crew, have the vegetable platter ready to go in five, we're almost out of the appetizers."

Irvine had his hand on the small of her waist, and she hers on his shoulder. She kept trying to lean in to him, and he kept leading the steps away to maintain the distance. Flickers of frustration started showing in her smile.

"She picked lace, of all things. Lace, on a wedding dress. I mean, sure, if you want to look vintage, but Elie's not the type that could pull that off, if you know what I mean."

_Squall, go over to Laguna now. Go over to Laguna and tell him you need help. Please, listen to me._

Step turn, box step, waltz two three. The lady was stroking Irvine's lapels none too subtly. Irvine was pleasantly ignoring it.

"By that point the sword was done for. Cardboard, you know. So I looked around, and there was this rock…"

"Unit one, get Senator Heral to the lounge before he passes out. Have a bucket on hand, he looks a bit ill."

She had him wedged up against the corner of the dance floor now, and Irvine couldn't step away without bumping into the tables.

"And I begged her, not pink, not for the bridesmaids, but she had her heart set on pink…"

_Squall, I know you can hear me. There is something wrong with you. You need help NOW. Get. Help. Now._

But a quick pivot turn and they'd switched sides, and he was leading her back across the dance floor.

"The ledge was crumbling under the weight, you see, so I picked up the tree limb…"

She smiled, he smiled, she flirted, he smiled, she hinted, he smiled, she tried to outright grope him…

"What do you mean you can't find Colonel Adren? He's right there, in the green uniform. No, the _green_ uniform."

He was shaking his head now, and saying something, and whatever it was it was making her frown…

"…cream and taupe don't mix, let me tell you…"

_SQUALL!_

…too much noise…

"…I ducked under the tail and wedged the branch under the rock…"

He shook his head, and she frowned, and he stepped away…

"...you should have _said_ that you're color blind…"

"…had to convince her to get the red wine…"

_SQUAAALL!_

He had to get out of here.

* * *

Irvine nodded goodbye to his partner and stepped to the buffet, grabbing a wine glass and downing it quickly. That had been the third woman to throw herself at him tonight. Did they not think he saw the gold rings on their hands? And why on earth couldn't they take "I'm engaged" as a "no"?

His collar itched his neck something fierce. He tugged at it, but knew it wouldn't do any good. He smiled graciously at the lady who stood beside him, and tried to sneak past the dance floor without…

Aw Hyne. Another woman. "Care to dance, Mr…?"

"Actually, I was just…" he pointed vaguely in the direction where Squall was hiding.

But Squall wasn't there.

Had Laguna dragged him off somewhere? No… there was Laguna over there. On the dance floor? Unlikely, but… no, not there. At the buffet? Wait, Irvine had just been at the buffet. Not there. Where…?

"Excuse me." His mind was chanting _dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit_ but it wouldn't do to make a scene at Laguna's shindig. He pushed his way through the crowd with a few apologies, and scanned the hall carefully for a certain brunet.

Finally he had to admit that Squall was gone. _This is not good. This is not good._ He grabbed the president's arm none too politely. "Laguna. Where's Squall?"

The president didn't share the shocked and appalled looks of his small crowd. "What? Has he run off somewhere? I asked Kiros to keep an eye on him, but-"

It was only ten feet to the black man. "Kiros. Where's Squall?"

Kiros held up a finger and kept speaking into a headset. "-elp her find her car keys. What is it, Kinneas?"

"Squall's missing. Where is he?"

"Believe it or not, I've been rather busy tonight, and haven't had time to keep up with-"

But Irvine was already marching towards the doors.

_I'm Squall. I'm somewhat injured and not in a good mindset. I don't like crowds. I'm in a palace. Where do I go?_

Irvine found him in the second garden he checked. One of the smaller ones, it boasted a small grove of trees and a smaller pond, on the edge of which Squall was crouched and staring into the water.

All the lights facing the garden were turned off, except for the half moon overhead and a few stars here and there. The party was only a dull murmur in the distance, and the city a duller one. The ripples on the water were much louder, as Squall tossed in another stone and scared the little fish.

"Hey." Irvine strolled over slowly. "You alright?"

Squall flicked the chain on his uniform. It glinted as the moonlight hit it.

_Why on earth Laguna would drag his antisocial and physically battered son to a party is beyond me. Guy's never liked them before, why would he like them now? Why did I let him?_

"Shiva won't talk to me."

Irvine settled down at the base of an oak, where he could watch Squall's expression. "Well, maybe she's just taking a breather… Ifrit doesn't talk to me much, except the occasional 'You're being a dick' statement…"

"She always talks to me."

He let the silence hold the moment. Comfort or space, that was the question. Did Squall need comfort, or did Squall need space? Did he need to talk about it, or would asking just irritate him?

"I just don't understand. She's never done this before. What did I do?"

He needed to talk about it. "Why would you think you've done something? Maybe she's just tired, needs a rest. Maybe she's thinking. You know Guardians; they have no sense of time. They could spend a millennia just solving a riddle…"

"No, it's my fault. I must've done something." His head dropped into his hands and his body trembled.

Sweet Mother, Squall was on the edge of tears. Was it hurting him this bad? Maybe it was just the pent up emotions… he really hadn't had any closure on his suicide attempts…Irvine scooted forward and tentatively laid a hand on his back. "Hey. Don't."

Suddenly he had an armful of sobbing gunblader. Squall's arms wrapped his waist tight enough to pinch. Sounds were mumbled into his chest, and he distinctly picked up the word 'love'.

_Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit…_

"Easy, easy." He crossed his arms over the brunet's back, rubbed the muscles soothingly. He breathed into Squall's hair softly, supported his shaking body, told his libido to shut up and sit down, not now. _Not now. Squall's just broken down on me. Last thing I need is to get off on it._

"Fucking hurts…" Squall clutched the back of his coat viciously, and some of the skin underneath it as well. Irvine bit his lip and patiently ignored it, and continued whispering nonsense comfort words.

"It'll be alright. It'll be alright. S'okay, I've gotcha."

_Sit. Down. Shut. Up. No. Happy. Not. Now._

The tears were soaking through his chest and his legs were groaning at him for the position. Didn't matter, worry about it later. Squall was slowly shaking less and less, and the sounds were quieting, fading from groaned pain cries into little moans and murmurs. Finally he was still, with only little tremors every now and then.

Irvine never stopped kneading his back, working out the tense knots he found there. He didn't say anything, just let the silence speak for itself. Just let the moment be what it was.

The tension faded. A bird sang a single low note in the branches. Of far in the distance, an ambulance siren wailed.

"Better?"

"No."

"Need a towel? You're dripping all over the place."

"Fuck off."

_He's feeling better._ "Wanna turn in early tonight? I can take you back to your room."

Squall let go and stood up calmly. He stared down at the pond and the little fish.

Irvine laid an arm across his shoulders. An unspoken statement. I'm here.

"Get the fuck off me."

_So much for being the source of comfort._ He reluctantly dropped his arm.

"You don't understand."

"So tell me."

"You can't understand."

"Maybe if you told me about it I could."

And Squall was grabbing his coat and shoving him against the tree, eyes glaring hate. "You can't fucking understand!" he snarled.

_What tha…_ "Squall Squall easy, easy, it's okay. You're right. I can't understand. I'm not you. I just thought it might help to talk abo-"

His pocket rang.

_Not now._ He let it ring… and ring… and ring… and praying Squall wouldn't have a fit, he answered it. "Kinneas."

"Stop taking missions and pay more attention to me!"

_Oh no, not now._ "Selphie, baby, can this wait, I'm kinda in the middle of-"

"I'm here and you're not and I love you but you're never around and I CAN'T DECIDE ON AN USHER!"

"Pixierabbit, darling, calm down, it's a mission, you know I can't help it. I'll be back as soon as I-"

"GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE AND MARRY ME DAMMIT!"

"Honeydoll, I-"

Squall grabbed the cell phone. "Call back later, I'm about to kill your fiancé." He threw the phone into the pond.

"Hey! That was my-"

"I was serious." Squall growled. And punched him.

* * *

Author's Note : I feel pretty bad for Selphie. Don't worry, I won't be bastardizing her. 


	16. Ch 16 Of Buffets and Bickering

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 16 – "Of Buffets and Bickering"

by Skandranon

* * *

"Hyne Damn Somebody Help He's Trying To KILL ME!"

_Finally, some excitement!_

The Ambassador from Whatchamacallit jumped in surprise at the outburst, and spilled his wine all over Lady Somethingorother's dress. She screamed and fainted, and knocked over one of the waiters, who toppled his tray of thingies-and-paste into the face of Baron Lookitmymedals, who by this time was drunk enough to be outraged, and took a swing, but missed and hit Duke Blablapolitics straight in the nose. Duchess Politics just stared on arrogantly, while Waiter #2 tried to help by fashioning an ice pack from the punch bowl ice and a napkin, but Duke B. B. Politics was flailing about in a tizzy (which is one of the funnier words in existence), and Waiter #2 missed the nose completely and poked him in the eye.

But who cares about them?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ballroom, that Kinneas fellow – a nice young fellow, polite, though you couldn't tell at the moment - jumped over a buffet table to put some distance between him and what seemed to be a very pissed off Hexadragon disguised as Squall Leonhart.

Kiros was already rushing forward – good man – to do damage control. Laguna stepped into pace, using the opportunity to communicate important tactical details, which just happened to be "Toldja you should've let me bring my gun!"

"Get yer ass out here and die like the Deling dog you are, Kinneas!"

_Uh-oh. Lovers spat._

Kinneas did nothing of the sort, instead opting to fling a tray of yummy-cheese-rolls at Squall to distract him. Squall batted them out of the way and they fell to the floor, quickly trampled by the guests, who were doing the two things all normal, intelligent people do when put in a large group and subjected to danger : panic, and stampede. The cheese rolls had been very yummy – he'd had twelve more than Kiros thought he'd had – and he was very sorry to see them go.

Kiros kept the traffic away from the feuding SeeDs, and Laguna tried to get between them. Kinneas was more than happy to let him, but Squall was more than happy to slam his elbow into Laguna's solar plexus, and could he just say, ow? But Laguna had more years of combat training – and about 5 inches – on Squall. He wedged himself firmly between his son and Kinneas, and twisted the brunet's wrists into a lock hold.

Squall was very, very annoyed by this.

"YEOWCH! Sweet Mother, Squall, no biting! What by the dusklight's going on here!"

"He's trying to kill me! Don't let him!"

"Ya think? Squall, put down the – put down the fork and – Squall I am your Father, listen to – ow that hurt. I'm bleeding. Are you happy? I'm bleeding! No don't pick up the – don't make me hit – yeowch Kiros HELP!"

It wasn't Kiros that came to the rescue – he had his hands full with the guests – but Kinneas. He circled around while Squall was otherwise occupied, and tackled him into a headlock. Gunner and gunblader went down in a tangle of thrashing limbs, leather, and suede. Laguna had no clue as to what was going on, but clearly Squall was extremely upset over something that Kinneas had done, and standing in the way of Squall's goals was like handcuffing yourself to the rail just as the 7:30 to Dollet was headed your way and had just reached its coasting speed of 120 mph.

So Laguna yelled "Free for all!" and jumped into the fray.

A few bruises and dislocations later, Ward grappled Squall into a bear hug that he couldn't break no matter how he struggled. Ward patiently suffered the ensuing bites, kicks, and cussing with his natural stoic patience, and Laguna and Kinneas were granted a momentary breather.

"That's my boy," Laguna chuckled, sprawled out on the marble tiles with inlaid semi-precious stones carved by a famous long-dead gem carving guy.

"Fucking KILL you Irvine!" Squall screamed, and bit Ward again. "Fucking Irvine and your fucking PHONE!"

Irvine, who was crouched against the upturned buffet table and clutching the serving spoon from the punch bowl like a lifeline, coughed spastically. "I forgot I had it, okay? I'm sorry!"

"Walked all the way to Esthar and we could've just CALLED-"

"I thought the batteries were dead! Selphie must've charged them!"

"-had to climb the wall and fell into the bushes-"

"Not like you gave me a chance to think of a different way to get in-"

"-took me half an hour to get the twigs out of my hair-"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Kiros speared them with his best 'You will not fuck with me' look. "Your little argument has just ruined the most important party for the most important holiday of the country of Esthar. Every noble, general, and CEO will be voicing their complaints about this, and guess who will have to apologize? Me. Bribes will have to be offered to regain favor. Butts will have to be kissed. You two are representatives of Balamb Garden, and you have just sullied its good name with your childish behavior. You may have jeopardized the alliance between this country and your precious mercenary group and planted the seeds for Estharian hostility towards the Gardens. If you do not shut up this very minute and behave yourselves I will knock you unconscious, arrest you, and deport you both. And don't you start snickering, Loire, or I will take you over my knee until your ass is bomb red, see if I don't!"

Father, son, and cowboy obediently fell silent, aside from a muttered "He started it."

"Now what exactly is the problem here?"

Squall twisted in Ward's grip, but without any real effort. "He had a phone."

"And?"

"He could've… called… instead…"

"Instead of trespassing by scaling the garden wall?"

"…Yeah."

Kiros clicked his heel against the tiles sharply. Laguna knew this was an angry sound. "And why exactly is this worth an international incident?"

Squall didn't really have an answer for that, so he just resumed his weak resistance against the hold. The furious rage had slipped from his eyes, and now he mostly looked confused. Resentful, but not actually angry.

Kinneas cleared his throat, and the attention of the half dozen people still in the room riveted on him. "At this point in time I'd like to say, with all due respect, that I think Squall is fucking nuts."

"Up yours farmboy."

"Shut. Up." Kiros clicked his heel again. Laguna winced. "Unless your statement has an explanation behind it, Kinneas, I suggest you refrain from badgering your commanding officer."

"It wasn't an insult," Kinneas said hastily. "I think… he's been off for a while now. Acting really weird, emotions all over the place. And he attacked me! I dunno. Maybe he has PTSD."

"I don't have PTSD."

"I said you might, not that you do. You gotta admit Squall, you're acting kinda crazy."

"Get a little closer and I'll show you crazy."

"That's it. I'm deporting you. I'm calling Garden, and I'm shipping you two back to them in a prison barge." Kiros turned on a gil and stalked off, thumbing the buttons of his cell. "Hello, Kramer? It's Seagill. I've got something of yours."

* * *

The solid steel box was ten by five feet wide, six feet tall, with steel benches on either side and links on the floor to attach chains to, though no chains were being used at the moment. The only light filtered in from tiny slit windows near the roof, and there wasn't much light to filter, considering it was 3 AM. Irvine sat on one end and Squall sat on the other, and the box rocked occasionally when the prison barge hit a particularly high wave. The silence was broken only by the hum of the engine, the splashing of water, and the bickering of the two men.

"Ass."

"Dick."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is when it's all you think with."

"Better than repressing and becoming prone to random acts of bitchiness."

"I'm not the expert on being a bitch here, cowboy."

"Wonder what Kadowaki would have to say about your recent behavior."

"Wonder what Selphie would have to say about your ogling my ass all the time."

"Trust me, your ass isn't worth my attention."

"I know a perky brunette who thinks otherwise."

"Can we leave my fiancée out of this?"

"I think her exact words were, 'You should've taken up the gunblade, Irvine, if it gives you this kind of muscles'."

"Ah, yes. Things that Selphie has said are 'cute'. Your ass, Laguna's ass, chicobos, the color yellow, the number 12, calculators, the 73 year old Vice President of Deling, hash browns, picket fences, and Pandemona."

"If you're using it as an insult, let's not forget the twenty times a day she calls _you_ cute."

"That's different. I actually am cute."

"As cute as an ochu in heat."

"Well, let's see here. I'm about five inches taller than you, yes? And from what Rinoa's said while inebriated, I'm guessing I've got a few inches on you in other places. Before Selphie, I kept myself quite happily entertained with whatever girl I wanted. And before Rinoa? Was she your first, Squall?"

"…"

It was exhausting to argue with the brunet, and Irvine quite happily took a rest break while his enemy tried to think up a retort. He could admit to himself that it was the stress talking, and missing his girl, and having to watch Squall all the time, and just life in general. He didn't know why he took it out on the gunblader. Maybe because he started it, the ass.

"Irvine?"

That wasn't an arguing tone, so he glanced across the box to where Squall was suddenly a lot closer than he'd been a second ago. "Um, yeah?"

"I'm… sorry. Things are just… confusing."

"Yeah, I know."

They shared a moment of quiet.

In the limited starlight, Squall's eyes flashed as they shifted from one emotion to another. Bitterness. Frustration. Resignation. Regret. Hints of something left unsaid in the corners, a wary, cautious glance at Irvine, words just behind the lips, wanting to get out, afraid of what may happen.

Squall just sat there stared into space. Just staring. Trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he meant to say. Head flicked to the side in an instinctive gesture, shoving away an unwanted thought. Eyes closed in a rebuke towards his inner conscious. Hands gripping his belts as he always did when tense, fingernails fretting at the metal bits. Boots pushing against the floor in a refusal to shuffle or fidget. Coat and heavy collar shielding him like armor, arms pressing the leather against him to hide the vulnerable chest with the white shirt that was still short enough to expose a bit of skin despite it all.

He was the most beautiful thing Irvine had ever seen.

It was Trent all over again. It was a disaster waiting to happen. It was the glint of the white of his eyes, his shirt, his collar, his teeth when his lips parted, a diamond on Selphie's finger, a wedding dress, and this was Bad. And Wrong. And he was going to kiss him anyway.

Squall reacted surprisingly well. No fist or gunblade swung at him. A "mmph!" and he fell back in shock, and they landed on the floor, lips breaking contact for mere seconds before Irvine reconnected them. Squall's lips were cool, and his chest was hot, and Irvine had never wanted to touch something so much in his life.

Still, it scared him out of his wits when Squall kissed back.

Sloppy, needy kissing and clutching, and Squall wrestled him back to a mutual sitting position, and they leaned against the bench and tried to climb into each others' skin. And then Squall was nibbling, and gnawing, and Irvine always believed in returning as good as he got, and then there were hickies and bite marks, and fingernails clawing at his jacket, and Squall's shirt became a mortal offense to him, but that was okay because it was thin and tore easy, and his chest was very, very fascinating.

His conscience was banging his head with cookware saying this was a Bad Idea, and wasn't banging a wonderful word? And Squall certainly wasn't complaining, and – and Squall…

…at the party, and in the garden, and at the compound, and in his bathroom, and on the balcony…

He pulled away. "No."

Squall blinked at him. Face flushed and lips swollen. A red welt on his neck. Confusion in his eyes.

"You haven't been yourself lately. I don't know what's wrong, but something is. You need to see Kadowaki when we get back to Garden. I think you're sick, Squall."

And the punch Irvine had been expecting at his first move finally landed. Better late than never.

* * *

Author's Notes – Well gee, only took me 16 chapters to get to the yaoi part. Lookit that. I love writing from Laguna's perspective, by the by. He's fun. 


	17. Ch 17 Of Boxes and Ink

Chapter 17 - "Of Boxes and Ink"  
By Skandranon

* * *

The Estharian deportment barge landed at Balamb at 3:08 in the morning on March 8th. The door swung open with a clinking of gears, to show Quistis Trepe, Asst. Headmistress of Balamb Garden, waiting patiently at the dock with a politely disgruntled expression and a clipboard in hand. She kept her back straight and her hands folded, her chin high and her eyes sharp. 

She didn't look too pleased to see them playing fisticuffs.

"I'm too old for this," she declared, and marched forward and slapped them both across the cheeks. It was a wonderful distraction, and he and Irvine gaped at her, bruised and breathing heavily. "You're both on detention leave until further notice. You will stick to the Garden and be the perfect models of civility, or I will have you writing finance reports until your arthritis kicks in. You will be receiving full physicals and PTSD exams the moment we get home, then you will be receiving psych evaluations, then you will be retaking SeeD Conduct 301 again, and you will be demoted in rank if you fail it."

_Oh Hyne no I'm not. That's what I've been putting up with this bastard in order to avoid. _Squall made as if to argue, but Irvine recognized her severity and stopped him with a kick to the ankle.

She turned with a flip of the hair and stalked back to the car as Selphie bounded into Irvine's arms and smothered him with kisses. "I love you you're okay! You're okay and I missed you – is that a hickey? Is that a HICKEY!" Irvine received another slap. "You bastard! Who was it! Some rich old floozy noble lady at the Ball? Is that why Squall went nuts? You bastard! I love you!" She seized his head and forcibly kissed him. "You're in so much trouble but I love you and I want to hold the wedding tomorrow!"

Oops. He finally took in their appearance, and realized that some of the… whatever that was… had left marks. "Um." Squall cleared his throat. "Not his fault. He tried to turn …her down, but… she wouldn't take no for an answer."

Irvine blinked a dozen or so times at that, probably shocked at Squall standing up for him. Selphie immediately began reclaiming him with hickeys of her own, chattering about how brave and true and wonderful he was, and how quickly a priest could be gotten if you knew who to call.

Quistis shook her head. "Sorry, Selphie, but wedding plans will have to wait until after I'm through punishing them for all the hassle they're putting me through."

Selphie whined and whimpered as they all climbed into the car, and Irvine whapped Squall's shoulder repeatedly until he fastened his seatbelt, and Quistis helped herself to some Advil and then defended the bottle from attempts to borrow it. The driver took them along the peaceful streets towards the town exit and the road beyond to Garden.

"So, in order to keep the peace until we get there, tell me how your mission went and I'll pretend not to be furious with you."

Irvine waved a hand vaguely. "Baddies captured us, we killed them, then we walked to Esthar."

"_Walked_ to Esthar?"

"His fault," Squall mumbled.

Irvine growled something about "bright idea" and "punch bowl", but did it low enough that he couldn't catch the words.

The recap was lengthened, but Squall stopped paying attention after that. Life was too complicated lately for him to focus on so many things. And right now it was all he could do to keep his head straight.

_Irvine said I might have PTSD. Do I? If feel sane now, but I get so angry, and so miserable…am I going nuts? Would I notice if I did?_

_About time you caught on._

_Shiva? Why weren't you talking to me earlier? I'm sorry if I did som-_

_Stop that._ An icy sigh rippled through him. _Of course you didn't do anything wrong, you lovely idiot. I don't know why, but you couldn't hear me when I spoke to you._

_I didn't know that was possible._

_Neither did I. Somehow the connection between us was blocked. Squall, do a favor for me?_

_Anything._

_Get a CAT scan._

Quistis clicked her pen tip in and out sharply. "Anyway. That reminds me. Your barge was very slow. While you were on your way here, Cid had time to take the Ragnarok to Esthar and apologize on your behalf, and return with gifts. One of which is this." She tapped a large cardboard box seated beside her. Around the top were neat holes, and written on the side in curly, green letters was _You left before I could give this to you. Had fun at the party! Hope you come to see us for Hynelight. – LL_

Irvine chuckled. "After everything we did, Laguna sends you a present. I like him."

"He sent... a box." Squall numbly tried to come to terms with the fact.

The box rattled.

"A box that moves," Irvine clarified.

A shiny black nose stuck through one of the holes and snuffled the air.

"And the contents are alive." _This should terrify me, right?_

"Open it!" Selphie giggled.

_I don't get that man. I create a diplomatic nightmare, and he sends me… this… thing. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a reward or a punishment, actually._

_Considering Laguna, I'd say a reward. He has a funny sense of humor._

_Funny isn't the word I'd use._

"OPEN IT," Selphie insisted, with all the intensity of a child awaiting a surprise. Irvine shrugged helplessly, in a manner that strongly encouraged doing as the girlfriend wished.

"If it bites me…" he grumbled, and tore the tape off the top. Before he could lift the flaps, they pushed themselves up to reveal a furry, curious face, set with a pair of huge almond black eyes.

"Cuuuute…" Selphie whispered.

_Oh no. It's…_

The tiny critter crawled out to perch on the lid, its claws digging into the cardboard. It shook its red fur with shivering motions, and whirred a soft sound.

_…a moomba._

_A moomba kitten, _Shiva clarified.

Selphie reached out, mesmerized, to pet it. Its eyes riveted to her, and before Squall could warn her, it had sunk its teeth in her palm.

Seconds later, Squall found himself and the others playing hot potato with the furball, tossing it away from them as it tried to bite, only to have it land on another person. Selphie just screamed and clutched her hands. Finally, it landed back on the box, where it clung to the side, murring timidly.

Quistis tried to calm down the brunette by explaining moomba culture. Squall stared at his thumb bitterly. A drop of blood was welling up on it.

_He sent me the thing. It's going to recognize him. Any second now it's going to-_

The kitten launched itself in a flying leap towards his face with a triumphant "RA-GOOOOO-Na!"

* * *

Ink everywhere. 

The fuzzball had all the hyperactive tendencies of a child. It scampered _everywhere_, it explored _everything_, and it chewed _all_ Squall's pens. Ink everywhere. Papers everywhere. Fur. Everywhere.

It was terribly adorable, when you got right down to it.

Currently the little critter was happily disorganizing the contents of Squall's desk and leaving little black pawprints on the carpet. Squall was rubbing his forehead. Quistis was trying not to be amused, and Selphie wasn't trying.

Since no one else bothered, Irvine found himself regulated to keeping the moomba from destroying anything too irreplaceable. He herded it away from the rare books with distracting pieces of bright string. When it got that look that suggested leather swivel desk chairs would make wonderful chew toys, Irvine scratched its belly until it blissfully forgot. He tried to save the paperwork, but negotiating his way around Squall, who had been leaning against the desk, lost him the precious time that could have salvaged them.

Squall was being more of an obstacle than usual. He kept dazedly wandering into Irvine's path, then glaring as if it were his fault. Irvine tried to ignore him and focus on the task at hand, which was to keep the pet mischief free while the adults talked.

"Extreme mood swings, violent or depressive tendencies, inability to focus… well, it does sound somewhat like PTSD, but I'm not convinced." Kadowaki scratched her chin thoughtfully. "I'd like to run you through some tests. Bloodwork, x-rays, the general lot. You say you had difficulty communicating with Shiva?"

Squall nodded wearily. He'd dropped into an apathetic lull once the news of his suicide attempts had gotten out.

"The nearest magic health detection equipment is in Deling. If we can't find a solution on our own, I suppose we can send you down there to get examined." The doctor didn't look too pleased at having a patient taken out of her hands, but if it came down to that, she'd send him on his way without a second thought.

"Until there is a solution," Cid mused, "I think it best you stay off active duty, and be confined to the D restricted areas of Garden. No Training Center, no Weapons Range, and no access to Garden files… just in case."

The moomba caught its claws in the carpet and frantically thrashed about. Irvine pinned it down and attempted to untangle the mess.

_It's for the best, Squall, just go with it_, Irvine silently urged. This would be an unpleasant time for one of Squall's more aggressive moodswings to kick in.

"Fine," Squall grumbled, but without any hostility to back it up. The kitten tried to scamper towards him at the sound of his voice, with eager chirps of "Ra-Goo-na! Ra-Goo-na!", but Irvine's hold on the critter prevented Squall from earning some more clawholes in his pants.

Selphie watched his efforts with wide, enthralled eyes, distracted from her 'my fiancé's back!' celebration by the only thing more important to her: cute and fuzzy. She was keeping her distance, though, after the first impression in the car.

Of all the things he could be doing right now, this wasn't anywhere on either his best or worst case scenario list. He had things he should be thinking about. His fiancée wanted to get married immediately. He had… cheated? On her with Squall. With a guy, of all things. Squall was going off the deep end. There were other "must think about" things lurking in the back of his head, but at the moment, all he could really concentrate on was how stupid he had to look laying prone on the floor in puddles of ink, wrestling with an armful of orange fur.

Cid shuffled the papers in his lap, one of which had to be Squall's "leave of absence for medical reasons" form. "I'm placing you under Irvine's supervision for the duration of your treatment."

"What," Kadowaki blinked.

"What! No!" Selphie moaned. "No no no! I need Irvine for the wedding! Caterer to hire! Invitations to print! Irvine! You haven't done your boyfriend duties!"

"It is a bit… unconventional," Quistis mused. "Usually patients with mental complications are placed under the care of a therapist or doctor, and Irvine is neither."

Cid shrugged and tried to hide a smile. "Well, he's done a bang up job so far. Convinced me to send Squall with him on two missions in a short span of time."

That earned him a cold stare. "Cid… I thought we discussed that." Quistis stated. "You gave all control over mission stats to Xu and me, remember? You aren't supposed to make any changes without consulting us."

"Is that so?" Cid pretended to be surprised. "Oh yes, that's right, so silly of me to forget. Ah well, no point worrying over it now. Irvine, good luck with Squall, I'll be sure to check up on you two later. If you'll excuse me." And with that he wandered off, with Quistis arguing with his back.

Irvine kept his opinion to himself and stayed out of the affairs of the higher ups, but inwardly he was grinning. _Sometimes I think the old senile fool is not as senile or foolish as he wants us to think he is._

Quistis and Kadowaki followed their Headmaster out, leaving the others to their own thoughts. Selphie pouted with tiny whimpering noises. Squall pouted in a much more masculine way. Irvine looked up at both of them, and honestly couldn't tell who looked cuter.

"Fine." Selphie hugged her arms with a snort. "Fine. Have fun. Whenever you're done babysitting, you can find me at the ALTER." Wincing at her own harsh words, she ran out.

Irvine rolled over so he could properly glare at the heavens. "Why me?"

Squall kicked him. "Stop exaggerating."

The moomba took advantage of Irvine's distraction and wiggled out of the hold, leaping jubilantly towards its master chanting "Ra-goo-na-ra-goo-na-ra-GOOOO-Na!" It shimmied up his pantleg to climb into his shirt.

The Commander of Balamb Garden collapsed to the floor snickering and gasping "No tickling! Bad Grrface! Irvine! Help!"

Irvine settled in to watch the show. "Uh-oh. Looks like big bad Leonhart has met his match. Oh no, someone save him from the horrible fluffy kitten! If only I had a camera… wait… Grrface?"

* * *

Author's Notes : For those of you who don't know, moombas recognize people by their DNA.

* * *

To Dylan : My very first angry review! I'm so happy! Thank you! Heh. And if you want PWP... go read something else. 


	18. Ch 18 Of Soda and Coin Tosses

Ch 18 – "Of Soda and Coin Tosses"

by Skandranon

Summary - This is for all of you that have been chanting "Yaoi Yaoi Yaoi!" at me. Enjoy.

* * *

He was fine until he sat down on the bed. Then the world fell apart.

He could see it happening. His thoughts tilted at an angle, and melted into honeyed glass. They trickled down his nerves in golden ripples of fear, and hate, and lust, and Irvine was staring up at him in shock from the pillows where he'd thrown the cowboy down.

The winter wind howled at him. He could barely feel the mouth on his, or taste the blood where he broke the skin. He had to look again to be sure that he had. Hands pushed against his chest, but they were so fragile compared to this. Easy to ignore.

The bruises blossomed on the cowboy's skin where his fingers dug to hard. The coat tore away, and the jacket, buttons popping like broken bones. Words were spoken, insistent words, but what did they matter? They can easily be muffled by a tongue. Or lips. Or a hand. Or a fist.

It hurt inside. It pounded like a drum, like a wave. A throbbing beat, with bright sparks of bitter sharp pain flittering about in the cracks. It was a cycle, like the rising of the tide, eating away at him and then coming back for more. Tearing at him, as it had torn at him before, in times he had repressed memory of.

But this made it better. Soft lips and soft skin made it better. Musky hair smell and aftershave smell made it better. He needed this. Things weren't so loud when he had this.

The warmth pooled inside, and now it was pleasant to touch. The need shifted to desire. Amber turned to ruby, bright viral ruby hot and flowing. Licking at the skin, and it was such a strong scent, so heavy and spicy, but so good. And clothing was bad. No more pants.

But cowboy didn't seem to want to take off his pants. How was he supposed to touch if pants were in the way? Need something sharp to cut with…

Nevermind. The chest was a nice area too. And look at that, chest hair. Rinoa didn't have th- no, don't think about her. Think about auburn hair and purple eyes.

Purple? That's odd, they were purple. Sort of an amethyst. He'd never noticed that before.

Cowboy was resisting again. Pushing at him, complaining. Nevermind, not important. The skin tasted too good.

It was soft movements and murmurs, and the floating haze he felt when he closed his eyes. It was a heartbeat below his cheek, fast and growing faster, like a caged bird.

There was something he was supposed to be doing, but the reason had flown away. He wanted this. He wanted it now. Why couldn't he have it? Why?

Why? Why… was he doing this?

The world snapped back into focus. Panic surged and he threw himself for the nearest exit.

"Squall! That's the-"

Branches caught him neatly before he could fall two feet.

"- window…" Irvine's head poked into view, hair mussed and fluffy. "If you wanted to get away that badly, there was a door five feet in the opposite direction."

Squall struggled to pull himself of view of the cowboy's teasing gaze, but the tree resolutely refused to let him go. "Um… help."

An orange streak leaped out the window and landed with a purr on his chest.

"Not you," Squall growled at it, but it just cuddled his shirt more. He turned back to Irvine in time to watch the Galbadian slide out onto the branches with all the casualness of a squirrel.

His skin tingled when Irvine got too close, but he kept from showing it as deft hands unraveled the body limbs and tree limbs knot. It was just a matter of certain branches getting stuck in his leather clothing, almost pathetically easy to undo if you weren't the one stuck. Once free, he assumed to be hauled to his feet and shown how to get back into the room, but Irvine just settled down opposite him and pulled a couple sodas from a hollow in the trunk.

_You alright, Squall?_ Shiva whispered.

_I'm fine, I guess. I went crazy again didn't I._

_I wouldn't call it crazy, but yes, you did. Was that Irvine you were kissing?_

Irvine seemed to be ignoring him after tossing a soda his way, and was staring out into the Training Center.

_I don't know why I did that._

_Gratitude for what he's done for you, perhaps?_

_Perhaps._ Looking at Irvine was seeing something he hadn't noticed before. The context had changed from 'one of the orphans' to something else. He paid more attention to the way the man sat, the way his hands moved, the light hidden deep behind the eyes. He actually looked when before he hadn't bothered.

_Shit. This is like with Rinoa. I didn't notice her at first either._

_Squall, you know nothing can come of this. He's engaged and is soon to marry. There will be children and a house._

_You think I don't know that? Even ignoring all that, he's a guy! I was kissing a guy. I should be disgusted, right?_

_Pfft. Humans._

The soda was a bitter concoction of Galbadian design, nowhere near sweet enough, but it was still a welcome distraction. It burned all the way down like liquor. Thinking of beer made him check the ingredient label. Damn. He'd forgotten that ALL drinks from Galbadia were alcoholic. At least the proof was low.

"Squall…" Irvine kept his eyes on the view, but even from the side the mixed emotions could be seen. "This can't happen. I'm engaged, and I'm straight, thank you. I don't…" A deep breath. "…I don't… like you, like that. The kiss… was an accident. This is an accident. And it can't happen again."

Hearing that made something inside ache like a plucked guitar string. He shoved the feeling away and nodded. "I know."

Irvine mimicked the nod with a determined strength. "That said, let's get back inside so we can get this accident over with. I've got condoms in the bathroom."

* * *

They bit and fought, kicking and rolling each over and over, falling off the bed and getting back on, throwing each other against the wall, and generally making a mess. Coat and jacket were long gone, probably over in a corner. Gloves were off, shoes were off, belts tossed towards this or that chair. Time had been taken to carefully place the hat where it wouldn't get damaged by over eagerness. They fought fiercely with no reserve, wrestling back and forth in the throes of passion, with only one thought on their minds.

"You do not get to be on top!"

"The fuck I do! Stop… struggling… and take it like a man!"

"Men don't take it, they dish it, and I'm dishing it!"

"You sound… like a moro- fuck that hurt!"

"It wouldn't if you'd hold still!"

"Why don't you… take your own advice!"

"I don't have to, I'm not the one… who's going to be… on bottom!"

"The fuck I am!"

"The fuck you are!"

Grrface had figured out by now that he wasn't invited to play, and was pouting on top of Irvine's coat.

"Give it up, I've got more upper body strength tha- shit, no pressure points! That's cheating!"

"All's fair…stop whining!"

"Oh, who's whining? I'll show you whining!"

They carried on in a similar vein for quite some time. Eventually, after much exhaustion, the mattered was settled by a coin toss, and Irvine glumly relinquished the condoms.

"You're going to have to talk me through it. I've never done this before."

"What, and I have?"

"Well, I just assumed-"

"You assumed wrong, alright? Your end shouldn't be so hard, all you have to do is pretend I'm a girl."

"Irvine, there is no way I could think you're a girl."

"…Are you saying I'm not pretty?"  
"I'm not having this conversation. Just… hold still."

"I am holding still!"

"Hold more still!"

"Fine! Shit, Squall, that hurts!"

"Well of course it hurts, I don't think these things were meant to naturally interlock, you know!"

"Aren't you supposed to… do something first? Shit, that stings!"

"Do what? This is how it works with a woman!"

"I'm not a woman! Hyne, I think we need something to make it easier."

"You're just being a baby."

"I am not being a baby! You want to try this and find out what it- fuck Squall! Stop, just stop! I'm not doing this!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it!"

"I don't know! Maybe if you wet it or something!"

"Hang on." Squall stalked to the closet and started rummaging through Irvine's things. The cowboy contemplated whether to complain about the breach of privacy, but couldn't muster up enough indignation while half naked. Finally Squall returned with a bottle and tried to keep from blushing when he opened it.

"I know that smell. Is that Selphie's vanilla lavender hair conditioner?"

"…Yes."

"She's going to kill me."

"It should help. It's like organic WD40 or something…. Um."

"Um what?"

"Do I put it on… me… or…"

"Just put it somewhere!"

"If you crack a joke about me smelling nice I'm going to hurt you."

"If you don't hurry up jokes aren't what I'll be cracking."

"Fine fine. Okay, let's try this."

…

"…That… is the freakiest thing I have ever felt."

"Does it… hurt?"

"Only a little, mostly it's just weird. How's it from your end?"

"…tight…"

"I'm guessing that means goo-woah. Holy Mother."

"…What."

"That was… whoa. Do that again."

"Do what again?"

"Whatever you just did. It was like a push or some- oh sweet Mother of all things Infinite… oh my Hyne…"

"That's… good?"

"Doitagaindoitagain."

"Fine. Hang on."

"Oh Hyne don't stop…"

"That's good?"

"That's… really good. Woah. You feeling this?"

"Think… so… Hey Irvine."

"Uhn."

"That thing… you're doing, where you… um, squeeze?"

"This?"

"Mmgnrh… yeah, that."

"You like that, huh?"

"Do it when I say 'now'."

"Kay."

"…Now."

"Oh dear Hyne."

"Ggkt."

"That was nice."

"…Yeah."

Grrface yawned and snuggled into a pocket on Irvine's coat. What he thought would be a temporary nest turned out to be a jungle of fascinating doodads to explore, and soon the little moomba was happily gnawing on a flash grenade.

"Okay, I'm going to-"

"Hang up a sec. Before we do anything fast, let's get a little more of that conditioner."

"Right. So I just… apply it the same as before?"

"We should probably do both… ends to get the best effect, actually."

"… I'm not sticking my hands there."

"You already stuck your… oh for the love of Major Hutch, give it here. I'll do it."

"Fine."

"…"

"…Wow."

"Wow what?"

"That's… uh…"

"If it bothers you don't look."

"No, it… um… it's kinda…"

"It's kinda what?"

"…turning me on…"

"…Heh, easy hotstuff, don't go jumping the fence without a running start."

"…Don't what?"

"Galbadian thing. You wouldn't get it."

"Clearly."

"It's an inside joke."

"It's a sex innuendo isn't it."

"…Yeah."

"Everything Galbadians say involves sex."

"Not everything. We talk a lot about beer and guns too. And occasionally music."

"Whatever. Back to what we were doing."

"Right."

The intercom on the wall beeped with a flash of red.

"You answer that and I castrate you."

It beeped again.

"Squall…"

"Don't."

It paused, then beeped three times in a row with a strobing light, the signal for a Top Priority call.

"Don't answer it Irvine."

"Not answering it is considered mutiny, Squall."

Grrface stuck his face out of the pocket to see what the strange noise was, lint mixed into his fur.

The intercom kept flashing.

Sighing, Irvine slid out from under a sulking Squall and jabbed the answer button. "Kinneas."

"This is Trepe. Grab your gun and get to the Ragnarok. We've got a mission kit waiting for you."

"What! I'm on medical for Squall!"

"I _know._ I'm the one that put you on it and I'm taking you off. Squall will be looked after, but you have to get ready to go _now._"

"Do I have time to ask why?"

"…Timber was just declared a quarantine zone."

* * *

Author's Notes – Fun facts about using household items as lubricants.

Chocolate – too sticky, and crystalizes under friction

Soap – BURNS. Also, dries out skin

Butter or Margarine – too hot as a liquid, congeals fast

Vaseline – disintegrates condoms

Gun polish or cleaning fluid – Horrid rashes and PAIN


	19. Ch 19 Of Xrays and Envelopes

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 19 – "Of X-rays and Envelopes"

by Skandranon

* * *

The ride through town consisted of him gazing out the window and thinking _I killed someone on this bridge. Selphie got a concussion next to that bench. Hey, there's that apartment building with the bloody laundry room. Wonder if I should return their clothes._

Deling held a lot of bad memories for him. It used to also hold good memories, but they involved Rinoa and were best not thought of now.

They had arrived at the Deling Medical Institute of Study quietly during the first hours of morning. Arousing reporters and public interests was the last thing they wanted. Dr. Besutch was waiting for them on the front steps, and ushered them quickly inside.

Squall glanced at his "escorts". Four armed SeeD that he'd never met before, all of them over 6 foot and humorless, and Matron, to keep him company. It was almost amusing that he required bodyguards that watched _him_ instead of for danger, but at the same time some part of him mocked the idea that they could ever stop him if he really wanted out.

They were led through dizzying corridors decked all in white, until finally they reached the Department of Magical Illnesses and Medicine. Most of the staff was off for the night, and the building seemed ghostly in the loud echoes of their passage. A few more corridors, and then a door, unlocked by a palm reader and key code.

Inside were all heavy machines with beige plastic hulls. An X-ray room, judging from the lead lined walls. They were painted over in off white to seem innocent, but he knew the smoothness of metal.

"Squall." Matron turned to him, gentle pleading in her tone. "The doctors wish you to-"

He ignored her and stepped forward. He wasn't a child; he didn't need to be talked to like one. "Let's do this."

For the next five hours it was one machine after another. Holding still as strange contraptions whirred and beeped at him, and magnetics and electricity made his hair stand on end. He was alone in the room, told by intercom where to go, how to stand or sit. There were no windows, no people. Just him and the machines.

Finally the door opened, and Matron ushered him out.

Dr. Besutch was calmly excited, jabbering on about basal cisterns and diencephalons and other nonsense. It was never a good thing to make a doctor excited. It meant there was something spectacularly wrong with you.

Grrface crawled out of his coat when he took it off the chair, and launched to tackle his waist. They'd allowed him the pet in hopes it could keep him grounded. It did provide him something to focus on, and was almost soothing, except when claws dug into skin. He shifted the critter so it hung off his belts, and seemed quite cheerful to do so.

No one seemed too eager to explain to him what was going on, so he sat in the corner and petted the moomba until it was purring loud enough to make his bones vibrate. Four tall blocky men tried to pretend that they weren't watching his every movement, and Matron and the doctor chatted in codes and five syllable words

After a while they came over to him, only to ask that he run through the tests again.

Another five hours of exhaustive lack of motion. The same machines as before, only now the intercom asked him to unjunction, junction, talk to Shiva while the machine ran, cast a scan spell, cast a cure spell, have Shiva eat one of his memories, actually _tell_ her to eat his _memories_. By the end of it he was considering curling up in one of the machines and refuse to come out.

Finally, finally they brought him out, and all attention was in his direction. Dr. Besutch had the expression of a scientist trying to figure out how to dumb down their speech to make it palatable by "normal" people.

"It would seem," he began, "That you have, er, adopted Shiva."

He didn't wait for a reply, and continued on at a faster pace. "In the case of people with impaired senses, such as the blind or deaf, over time the brain may shift its energy to the other senses, so that they become heightened. In some cases, the brain may even convert some of the areas formerly used for the impaired sense, to serve other portions of the brain. You are following? The brain can, as it were, adapt, to varying circumstances."

"GFs take up space in our brains," Matron offered. "Space that should be used for other things. Like a tumor, only not deadly."

The doctor snorted at the interruption and jumped back in where he left off. "In your circumstance, your brain has accepted Shiva as part of it. Because you left her junctioned for so very long, some of your brain's mental processes were shifted to her, such as social awareness, emotional control, and such. You became, as it were, codependent on her, for these mental processes."

"It probably started out simple." Matron patted his hand comfortingly. "She would look after you, point out things you didn't notice, or calm you down when you got upset. But after awhile it got so that she _had_ to do these things. You couldn't do them on your own, because those parts of your brain had shut down to supply the energy for her."

"I've been told that you were then forced to unjunction her for a long period of time, yes?" The doctor asked, pushing up his glasses. "In this case, your brain was suddenly hindered, as it would be in a car accident or by a disease. It struggled to make up for the loss, by overproduction of… do you know what the amygdala is? No? It's the part of the brain in control of emotions. It receives emotional signals and sends them to anterior cingulate and the basal ganglia, which in turn control the body's physical reaction to emotions, such as crying, laughing, and so on. Anyway, your amygdala tried to overcome the loss of Shiva by… erm, turning up the volume, of the emotions you received. However, without Shiva to control the decision to act on the information, everything is transferred to action, and your emotions became heightened without reason, to the point of… er… to the point of, well, insanity."

Matron sighed. "You had twice as much feeling, but no way to tell yourself what to do with it. Instinct took over, and you couldn't help yourself."

"Unfortunately, returning Shiva to your brain only made things worse, as now there were _two_ parts performing the same tasks. Messages overlapped, neurons were disrupted, and things became… well, very interesting."

"You told us that at times you couldn't even hear Shiva. We think that's because of the overlapping. Your brain was receiving two signals at once, like listening to two songs at the same time. It tried to make sense of them by shutting off all the outside noise and senses, including Shiva."

"So…" Squall interrupted, struggling to understand, "…I'm flipping out over every little thing, and can't stop it."

"And not reacting to logic, yes, essentially. And it's not just emotions. The examinations suggest that your brain placed Shiva in charge of other things as well. There's too much activity for just the amygdala."

"Why am I okay right now?"

Dr. Besutch eyed him with curiosity. "We think that your mind is reacting to the strain of the heightened emotions by partially shutting down the amygdala for short periods. How are you feeling right now?"

"…just… bland, really."

"Thought so. You're receiving very little emotional stimuli."

"So, do we take Shiva out again?"  
"Oh no. No, that would only make things more complicated. Your brain might turn up the volume to three times the norm, or worse. No, for better or worse your body has accepted the current situation as "normal", and disrupting it will only increase the problems."

"So what do we do?"

"Well… I don't know."

* * *

_To : Balamb Garden, Room 218 – Selphie Tilmitt, SeeD Officer_

_From : Timber Quarantine – Irvine Kinneas, SeeD Officer_

_My Dearest Selphie,_

_It is the day of March 12, Tuesday, about noon. The troop is holed up in an abandoned bookstore as I write this. There is, as always, the distant sound of gunfire and shouts, but nothing within five blocks of us._

_I am well, uninjured, and decently fed. There is some difficulty finding sleep in the constant tension, but I nap when I can. We lost a good man yesterday, to shrapnel wound that got infected. Another man has a bullet wound to the shoulder that is showing the first signs of infection. I will try to pick up disinfectant when I send this letter across the barricade, and hopefully my next letter will bear better news._

_Every day I do what I can to put down the rebellion, so that I may end this nightmare and return to you. But the battle is harsh, and I worry that it might be some time yet before I can see your beautiful face again._

_The bloodstains on my coat are getting to be quite a nuisance. I don't believe it will be salvageable after this mess. Luckily my hat is faring well enough, but I'm running low on good ammo for my shotgun. I have plenty of backup weapons, however, so this is more of an annoyance than a real problem._

_This is all the paper I have at the moment, so I will conclude. I long so terribly for the touch of your hand against my face, the green glitter of your eyes gazing into mine. I keep you always in my memory, sweet Selphie._

_Irvine Kinneas, your lovable Galbadian chocoboy

* * *

_

_To : Balamb Garden, Room 218 – Selphie Tilmitt, SeeD Officer_

_From : Timber Quarantine – Irvine Kinneas, SeeD Officer_

_My dearest Selphie,_

_It is the day of March 14, Thursday, in the late evening. My troop has been scouting the southern barricade for useful supplies. We are running low on perishables and decent medicine. It's been a while since I had something to eat that didn't come out of a vacuum pouch. I almost miss the Cafeteria cooking._

_Jorrin, the man with the bullet wound, still lives, thanks to a slapdash cauterization. It damaged the use of his arm, but he says he has no regrets. We have lost no other people, but a little girl we rescued died from her injuries. She'd taken a bad blow to the head, and never fully recovered. She had to be about 6. I didn't even learn her name._

_There are rumors of the quarantine becoming absolute, of them locking us in without any access to supplies. If this happens, the death rate will sky-rocket, among all sides. It's hard enough as is to get enough food and medicine, even with our SeeD supply line. I know the blockade will do what it must, but there are civilians in here that need to be evacuated. Children. I'm sick and tired of seeing small bodies in the streets._

_If I'm figuring right, it's about the time that you begin prepping the Spring Festival, yes? I'm sure it will be as wonderful as it always is when you're in charge. If I miss it, try not to be upset. I give you full permission, in fact, I demand, that you have fun and dance with other men. Be sure to twirl Squall around the dance floor for a couple songs; he needs the exercise. Give him your full pout if he refuses; no one can stand up to that. And eat lots of chocolate. But not too much, because I know it makes your stomach "floppy"._

_I wish you much luck in all things, darling, and hope you think of me from time to time. But not at the Festival. I want you happy, sugarstar of my heart._

_- Irvine Kinneas, tired but still doing just fine

* * *

_

_To : Balamb Garden, Room 218 – Selphie Tilmitt, SeeD Officer_

_From : Timber Quarantine – Irvine Kinneas, SeeD Officer_

_My dearest Selphie,_

_I apologize for the long delay, my darling. Paper is at a premium here, and there is little time for pleasantries. It is the day of March 18, Monday, early evening. This is the first time in days I've had a spare moment that I haven't needed to spend on sleep._

_Yesterday and the day before were spent running around an awful lot. A group of rebels, one of the more extreme factions, has taken a handful of people hostage, for use in ways I won't mention. We've been tracking them through the streets and buildings, and have finally taken them down._

_Unfortunately, there weren't many survivors, and we lost two good people in our troop. Dean got knocked in the back by a grenade, and Wena was crushed under a collapsing roof._

_My hat has a troubling chunk taken out of the rim. For the life of me, I can't remember when it happened or how. I think maybe a bullet._

_I write to tell you that I am mostly well. I took some shrapnel to the leg, but it's not a debilitating injury. I'm having nightmares, but I fall back asleep easily enough. I worry for my troop, though. Most are not as well off as I. Our numbers are worryingly low, almost too low to do any good._

_I hope the next time I write, I can give you better news. I keep you in my heart, my honeyrabbit._

_- Irvine Kinneas

* * *

_

_To : Balamb Garden, Room 218 – Selphie Tilmitt_

_From : Timber Quarantine – Irvine Kinneas_

_Selphie,_

_I can't say much. They're closing the quarantine. This'll be the last message I can send for a while. I am fine. My leg healed well, no new injuries. Don't worry for me, I can handle myself. Try to convince Quistis to send in a retrieval troop for the civilians._

_- I.K.

* * *

_

To : Balamb Garden, Room 218 – Selphie Tilmitt

From : Timber Barricade – Border Patrol

This is to inform you that Irvine Kinneas sends word that he is alive and well, and not to worry about him. He sends his love.

* * *

To : Balamb Garden – Quistis Trepe, Asst. Headmistress

From : Timber Barricade – Border Customs

This is to inform you that the SeeD Troop, Blue Diamond, has reached and checked in at the Border. There are four people counted, and the names and ranks given are as follows.

Minz Trubechen – SeeD, Rank 9, S# 184734

Jaxon Lerrenger – SeeD, Rank 8, S# 174937

Salle Kirsten – SeeD, Rank 5, S# 723436

Jorrin Tess – SeeD, Rank 4, S# 184739

SeeDs Trebechen and Lerrenger have suffered debilitating injuries and will be detained at the Border Infirmary. The others have mild injuries but will be released for transfer home after the paperwork has cleared.

Medical records :

Trebechen received a bullet wound to the abdomen that has become badly infected. He is in threat of blood poisoning, and will be kept until stable.

Lerrenger suffered a head blow from the shrapnel of a grenade, and is currently in a coma. His condition is uncertain at the moment, and he has mild brain hemorrhaging.

Kirsten's left arm is broken in two places, reported to be from a beating with a baseball bat. He has been given a cast and otherwise suffers no health risks.

Tess has an older shoulder injury that shows signs of continual infection, possibly blood poisoning. Suggest monitoring and antibiotics.

The rest of the team is declared missing, assumed dead. Request confirmation to declare them KIA under codes of conduct during Quarantine, section D-12, paragraph 5.

* * *

Author's Notes – the brain information is mostly accurate, though I may not have all my facts right. If you'd like to see my collection of nifty fanart drawn for me by my buddy Neko, including two adorable Grrface pics, feel free to contact me. 


	20. Ch 20 Of Paperclips and Acorns

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 20 – "Of Paperclips and Acorns"

by Skandranon

* * *

Back and forth. Back and forth. Grrface scampered to one wall, fell over himself at the last minute and slammed into it, blinked and murred in surprise, then picked himself up and scampered back the other way. Repeat.

Squall could relate. He'd been ordered to his quarters unless under constant supervision. Four weeks now, of constant solitude in a building that housed hundreds. Getting stares as he walked the halls, from students wondering why their commander had suddenly acquired an armed escort everywhere he went. Whispers and rumors trying to puzzle why he'd dropped out of teaching all his classes. Why he never trained in the Center anymore. Why he took meals in his room, instead of with the other Orphans as he normally did.

Only a few of the rumors connected it to the death of Irvine Kinneas. Most of the talk about that centered on his grieving fiancée, now almost a widow. She was a brave little thing, they said. She tried to keep up a strong appearance, and go about duties as usual, but those that knew her well had learned how to predict when she was about to collapse to the floor weeping.

Technically, he might not be dead. The Timber Quarantine was absolute now; nothing went in, nothing came out. The last few stragglers had escaped it, and now anyone still inside was considered a hostile rebel and left to starve. Irvine hadn't been with the SeeDs that went through the Customs, and there was no way he could survive long in the barren town without supplies. But he might not be dead yet. Just trapped.

Not that it would matter in a month.

They were already writing it into the history books. The Quarantine of Timber. How an entire city was blocked off from the rest of the world to prevent the Grey Buel Rebels from spreading their biochemical terrorism to other regions. How civilians had been sacrificed to save countless more. How the Quarantine had worked, and the Rebels had been stopped completely. The books failed to mention Irvine, other than including him with the rest of the dead in a little blurb about "sacrifices to serve the common good".

Squall didn't know how to feel about it. He didn't trust his feelings these days. If he felt anything at all, he took one of the pills Kadowaki had given him that made everything fuzzy and grey.

The feathery touch on his hand was Grrface whining to be petted, and he watched as his hand scratched the bright fur.

_Shiva?_

_Yes?_

_Just checking._

If he walked out the door, there were two men waiting to follow him. They changed regularly, and weren't keen on talking, so he hadn't bothered to learn any names.

They'd taken away his gunblade, and his daggers and pocketknife and kitchen knives and razor and pens and belts and pistols and nail file and toothbrush and don't ask him why they took the toothbrush, he didn't know. The magazines because they had sharp edges, the clothes hangers and paperclips, his bed frame and couch because of the metal springs. He had to fill out a form to use shampoo because he might try swallowing it. They'd overridden the lock code on his door, and he was checked on at random intervals.

He got asked forty times a day if he was okay, but no one had bothered to ask how he felt about Irvine.

"Prftgka?" Big black eyes gazed up at him.

He pulled the kitten into his lap and stroked its chin. "I'm fine."

"Grwajedek."

"Yeah. I'm bored too."

The fluffy ball wriggled under his shirt and popped its head through the collar, tickling his neck with its whiskers. "Nyakrekregrwoo."

"We'll go out to the Quad later. I don't want to deal with the bodyguards until I have to." He talked to Grrface now as if the critter could understand him. He figured it didn't matter if he got just a little more insane. And the critter liked to pretend it could talk back, so it kept both of them occupied.

Paws kneaded his chest with the claws carefully withdrawn. Claws were bad; they led to cursing Squall and being tossed across the room to land on the beanbag. Not that that wasn't fun. "Kchdsedaa."

"Yeah, I don't like it either. But it's for my own good."

Grrface snorted to show what he thought of that.

"Well what do you expect me to do?"

The moomba slithered out of his shirt and did a flying pounce on his pillow, sinking his teeth in and shaking it savagely.

"I can't do that. They'd just lock me in the brig, and then you couldn't play with me."

Grrface was enjoying his game too much to respond, so Squall left him to it.

_Shiva?_

_Yes?_

_Just checking… how are things in there?_

_Normal as one can expect. Bored?_

_To death. I'm thinking of an animal…_

_Belhelmel._

_Dang._

_Guessing games don't really work when you're connected telepathically._

He had a deity and a moomba to keep him company. More than he was normally used to. And he had never been lonelier.

_They just left him there to starve to death._

_He's probably dead already. The survivors say things were pretty intense._

_He could survive it. He's one of the Orphans. He's in there alive, somewhere. Waiting for a rescue team that will never come._

_They couldn't risk it. The Rebels, remember._

_Fuck the Rebels. I'd go in there and kill every one of them to ensure they didn't get out. Then the barricade could be taken down and Irvine could be found._

Before Shiva could even say _Don't you dare think of it_, an idea hatched.

_I could, couldn't I._

_No. Squall, no. You're under supervision. You're sick._

The moomba had noticed the change in demeanor, and came trotting over to see what was up. "Mrowmekha?"

Squall ruffled its fur with more enthusiasm than he'd felt in a while. "What do you think, Grrface? Do you think I should go save Irvine?"

"Rrrrjen?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Shashametra!" The kitten fell over itself with excitement and tried to climb into his shirt, but the brunet shooed him aside.

"Sorry, fuzzball, you can't come with." He grabbed his coat from the floor and pulled on his boots.

_Squall, NO._

_You'd do it for me._

_…That's different._

_No it's not._

_You're unstable._

_I'm not doing anyone any good here. I'm going. You can come, or I can unjunction you and risk the consequences. Your choice._

_…I'll come._

He checked himself over, and nodded. He'd have to pick up supplies on the way. Turning back, he gave the moomba one last affectionate scratch on the ears. "Be good. Go hide in Selphie's room and cheer her up."

"Grawooken."

He marched to the door and jabbed the panel. It slid open to show a pair of fellows surprised to see him out and about before 2 pm. They recovered quickly, though, and stared down at him dispassionately with weapons at the ready. If he went crazy on them, or tried anything, they'd be ready to restrain and subdue him.

Squall smirked.

* * *

Irvine bit back a curse, lest the sound attract unwanted attention. He glared reprovingly at his finger, which insolently kept bleeding.

_Second time I've done that. Concrete is bloody hard to dig through._

He stuck the finger in his mouth to suck out any dirt and continued on with the other hand. The broken flecks of concrete rubble took some time to get through, but finally he reached his goal and pulled it out by the roots.

Spitting out the gristle, he tore into the dandelion's stem and chewed away. Sharp and bitter, but good eating. Helped prevent against warts too, according to the old medicine woman that lived in Wannig, not that warts were much importance to him.

A diet of weeds and dog meat wasn't the highlight of his life, but it kept the belly full. The real problem was water, since the rebels had poisoned what was in the pipes. Thankfully it had rained few nights ago and he'd managed to fashion a water trap out of a window drape.

A clanking from down the street had him ghosting into the shadows to listen. Human feet, moving fast, but not in his direction. Stumbling. Not everyone was doing as well as him.

Satisfied with his small meal, he took to the rooftops as soon as it was clear. The view of the sunrise was lovely, and from here he could see the barricade, twenty feet high and stretching in both directions for a mile before curving out of sight.

_Wonder what Selphie's up to now._ The root was even bitterer, but it was where all the nutrients were, so he gnawed. _Is it June? I think it's June. That would mean the Childbright fundraiser's coming up. I won't be there to lug boxes of canned food for her. Maybe she'll get Squall to help her._

_I hope he got looked after. Heck, they probably found a cure by now and he's back to his grouchy self._ Two streets down a cat walked across the littered asphalt, busy hunting its own supper. _Bet they're throwing some party for him to celebrate, and thinking, "Gee, we wish Irvine was here. No wait, he would hit on all the ladies and leave none for us. That darn selfish horndog."_

Sitting up here, he could almost imagine he'd scaled a tree back in Galbadia to eat apples, after riding across the plains all day on his favorite chocobo. Dandelion almost tasted like acorn, actually. The same bitterness that told you it was good for you. And across from him on a limb would be some rodent or bird, squawking for him to get out of their bloody tree, dang it!

He glanced in the direction of the imagined bird, and all he saw was empty air, then beyond it, another building. Off in the distance was the sound of machines instead of crickets. But if he squinted, it was almost the same.

Except for the gunfire. Hyne, that was nearby. Better take a look see.

A wind up, and a running leap cleared the gap between buildings, and Irvine sprinted off towards the sound. He'd traded out his boots for tattered loafers a while back, and they were perfectly quiet on the concrete roof. Another leap, and he was a block closer. And then the battle was below him.

He settled into the edge of a heating vent to take in the show. Looks like the Rebels were turning on each other in desperate times. Their last bit of ammunition wasted in sporadic shots that missed the target completely. Amateurs.

He just hoped they took the dead home before eating them this time. He hadn't enjoyed watching that.

A bullet pinged off the wall and sliced through his cheek. He threw himself backwards and scrambled away from the edge, hand clamped to block off the blood flow. _They really are amateurs. Couldn't hit a cliffside unless they were aiming away from it. Better get out of range._

A hasty retreat to the homestead and careful inspection of the wound with the shiny side of a hubcap. _Need to wash it out. Gun wound will leave powder and lead splinters._

The angle didn't allow for a bandage, so he let it be, but watched until it congealed into a wet scab.

_Ah well. Now to visit the garden._

He snuck across town, inching around every corner, though at this point there was no need. He'd probably already seen all the people he'd encounter today. The city was pretty much deserted. Ten blocks put him at an apartment complex with its front door torn off. In the middle of the building was a cramped courtyard with a few bushes and a tree, and most importantly, grass.

And among the grass were growing wild strawberries, which he'd had his eye on for a few days.

_Well hello there. Five ripe ones this morning. Much better on the taste buds than roots and mangy meat._ He popped one into his mouth and sighed blissfully. _Ah, much better._

Next up was the roost. Four more blocks put him at a church. He navigated the scaffolding to get to the roof, where the pigeons had their nests. As always, they were not pleased to see him, and warbled and fluffed their pinions.

"Ah come on, I'm not gonna eatcha. If I want pigeon I hunt the ones down by the fountain. They're plumper." He flicked one off its nest and palmed the pair of eggs inside. "Thank ya kindly, be back in a few days." With a wink he was back down to the ground floor, and sucked the yolk raw lounging in the pews.

He asked his belly if it was still hungry, and it answered "Duh". So on he went to the park.

The "park" was an insult to his rural senses. A smattering of trees locked into steel cages, set in a square around benches and a few flowerboxes. But the trees were hickories.

Ignoring his urge to climb the trees for pure nostalgia's sake, he scooped up the few nuts that had fallen to the cold stone ground. _Don't have to worry about nutterbugs infecting them here, so they're all probably still good._ Hickories were a hassle to crack and dig the meat out of, but oh were they tasty. He pocketed them for now, though. They would require being smashed with a large rock or cinderblock to open them, and the noise was sure to attract attention.

And now to return to his homestead deep in the archive section of the library, and nap in the dusty armchairs, and daydream. Ah, the ever dangerous, ever challenging life of a SeeD.

* * *

Author's Notes – Heh, you thought he was in trouble, didn't you? Nah, Irvine's just dandy. Everything he ate in this chapter is really edible, and has been eaten by yours truly during my woods romping days. Ah, nostalgia. 


	21. Ch 21 Of Footprints and Violins

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 21 – "Of Footprints and Violins"

by Skandranon

* * *

The guards at the Quarantine gates wanted to stop him from going in. They didn't stop him.

Once inside, he checked out the map he'd "borrowed" from the Border Customs. Timber was a decent sized town, and seemed larger without its inhabitants. The map was marked in pen where the Border patrol thought the rebels were staying, but he didn't trust them to be accurate.

First step, find Irvine. Second step, kill Rebels. Simple enough.

He navigated around the wreck of a car, and the bodies littered behind it. There was a lot of debris near the barricade, probably from attempts to get out. It lessened as he moved further into town, until the only thing scattered on the streets was trash and bloodstains.

He paused at a dry fountain to get his bearings. _I'm Irvine. I'm possibly injured, borderline starving and in a hostile situation. Where do I hide._

Irvine wasn't in the first apartment building he checked, or the second. Nor was he in the police station, nor the hotel. By the time he exited the third apartment building, he wasn't alone. A young child stood tense in the street, gripping a dagger with trembling hands.

"I'm a SeeD Officer of Balamb Garden. I'm not going to hu-"

He parried the lunge in annoyance. "Knock it off. I need to know whe-"

He blocked the attack and swatted the kid on the rear, sending him sprawling onto the road. "Would you just listen. I'm not going to hurt yo-"

The blow came from behind, and the sharp lancing stabs told that the baseball bat had nails driven through it. "Gittem gittem!" shouted the kid, as the new arrival swung again.

Squall sliced him through and turned back to the kid with a snarl. "Would you fucking listen! No, don't… come back here! Dammit!"

He gave chase, but the brat must've gone to ground, because there was no sign of him around the corner. "Dammit," he muttered, and hauled out his map again.

"Prit?" his pocket mewed.

"What tha- Grrface! I told you that you couldn't come!" He dug the large limbed kitten out of his satchel and glared it in its big almond eyes. "Bad moomba. No stowing away."

"Nyanyegosrkt"

"Well, stay in the bag and keep your head down."

"Yegar." It scrambled back inside and pulled the lid shut.

Some more walking led him to a church. No one inside. The light beamed down through a thousand colored shards of what had been the main window. Shadows flitted around the roof and feathers occasionally drifted down.

He was about to leave when his instinct told him to look down. Footprints in the dust, not his own. Squall crouched to examine them, tracing a finger over the outline. Not Irvine's shoes, the same size though… but there, over there by the seats, a scraping line along the edge like a coat would make when a person stood up. It could be him. Why would he change his shoes, though? Whoever it was, they'd been here frequently in past weeks.

He followed the trail to where it ended at the front door, and then continued on his trek. After a quarter hour he ended up at a library, and decided it was as good a place as any. A search through the main level didn't turn up any clues, but checking the lower levels revealed that someone had been living in the archives section, very recently from the look of it. Jerky meat in plastic bags littered the top of a reading desk, and below it sat jugs of water. Ha! Irvine's shoes were in the corner, the sole of one worn completely through.

He'd found him. Now he just had to wait for Irvine to get back.

After waiting eight long, tedious hours, he admitted that maybe Irvine had moved on. Maybe the library's privacy had been interrupted and the cowboy didn't feel safe to return. Or worse, maybe it was Squall's presence that had caused the abandonment. He sure as wouldn't return to a safehouse if he learned someone had moved in while he was gone.

Growling, he nudged a napping Grrface back into his satchel and headed for the exit. He took a shortcut through the fiction section this time and tripped over Irvine.

He shoved down the attack mode that had sprung to life, put away the gunblade and checked for a pulse. Alive, breathing, but unconscious. Looks like he collapsed for some reason. Famine, perhaps. No, Irvine had meat downstairs. Scurvy?

Dragging the cowboy over to a reading circle of chairs, Squall checked him over for injuries. Gash to the cheek, mostly healed. Bad bruising alone one leg, a bullet wound on the other. There, a stab wound to the arm, horribly infected. That was the reason.

He rushed for the water downstairs and brought up a jug. Stripping Irvine's dead weight of his jacket was a chore, but he got it off. And now the wound was exposed in all its grisly glory. Looks like Irvine had tried to cauterize it and hadn't burned out the infection well enough. Blood poisoning for sure. He tore the scab off and flicked it aside, and started hunting through his bag for his medical supplies.

Washing out the wound allowed him to get a good view of the problem areas. A few tiny lead fragments had dug their way in deep, probably too deep for Irvine to remove with his available supplies. But Squall had come prepared, and pulled them out with surgical tweezers. A heavy smearing of antibiotic cream was next, and a clean bandage, and an injection of penicillin.

A motion caught his attention, and he realized it to be Irvine dazedly blinking himself awake.

"Hey you."

Glazed eyes drifted in his direction, and the lips quirked in an almost-smile. "…ey."

"Do they not teach G-Garden SeeDs proper field medicine?"

"…fkyu." Rapid, shallow blinking said that Irvine was about to go under again.

"Hey, stay with me. Need you to drink some stuff." But Irvine just slipped deeper. Squall slapped him over the head. "Hey! Stay with me. Don't make me bite you."

"…prmsis prmsis."

_Promises promises,_ Shiva translated.

"You better believe it. I need you to drink this." He angled the cowboy's head so that gravity would do most of the work in getting the vitamin shake down, and all he had to do was swallow. "Come on, it's good for you. Tastes like dead blobra, but that's how you know it's work… Irvine, wake up." Whap. "Irvine. Dammit!"

* * *

"Come in."

Selphie shuffled in with a small salute and took the seat opposite of Quistis' desk. She'd scrubbed off the tear streaks admirably, but it left her cheeks red from the friction. The bounce from her step was replaced with a steadiness that could only be a wall holding back the storm. She no sooner settled into the chair before she was staring the assistant Headmistress down.

"They found his body didn't they."

"What? No. No no no. Oh Selphie, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think that. I should've told you, but this is confidential, so it had to wait until we were alone."

The posture relaxed a bit, but her eyes still held the same seriousness. "Then what."

"Well…" Quistis chewed her lip and steepled her fingers. "…you are aware about the situation with Squall."

"Yeah, about him and Shiva. Why?"

"Squall… escaped."

They sat together for a moment contemplating what this meant. "He's going to Timber isn't he."

"That's our guess. He took medical supplies and rations, and for some reason, his moomba. If he truly wanted to get into the Quarantine zone, I've no doubt he'd be capable of doing so, despite all the defenses."

"So he thinks Irvine is alive."

"Selphie…" she sighed. "Even if he were… now both Squall and Irvine will be stuck in there, and there's nothing we can do about it. Any attempt to help them could risk letting the Rebels spread the biochemicals. And we know what that would mean." She shuddered as she remembered the footage from Timber. Thousands dying in minutes. Shaking it off, she offered her hand with a sad smile. "Irvine would understand."

Her hand was taken and squeezed gently. "I know," the brunette whispered.

"We can only hope the Quarantine can stand up to Squall in a determined mindset. I would rather not lose both of them."

Selphie frowned. "He took the moomba? It doesn't make sense, but it could help him stay calm. Pets do that, you know. I heard from some magazine that they add years to your life, but it wasn't a good magazine so it might have… been wrong…" She deflated and dropped her gaze. It wasn't worth the effort these days.

"Him staying calm isn't exactly what's worrying me."

It was said in a quiet tone of foreboding, or resignation, and it caught Selphie's gut immediately. "But wasn't that what was the problem? His emotions are all out of whack and really strong?"

"That was the problem, yes."

"Was?"

"May still be, but it's not the possibility we're concerned about. He…do you know what an amygdala is?"

"A company that makes electric violins?"

Quistis chuckled, and seemed relieved that she could. "No, it's a part of the brain. One I've been learning too much about recently. The problem with Squall's is that it's working twice as hard as usual. And picking up speed, according to the latest x-rays."

"So it's going to get faster and faster until… pop?" Selphie winced.

"That's one possibility. One we were trying to prevent with heavy sedatives and other medication. Which he didn't take with him," she snorted bitterly. "But there is another possibility. His mind was shutting down parts of the amygdala to lessen the strain, and it was helping somewhat. We were considering… we were discussing the idea of maybe attempting to shut it down completely."

"Um… what does the amidala do?"

"Amygdala. It registers emotions. If you heard a good joke, the amygdala would be the part of you that realized it was funny."

Selphie groaned. "So shutting it off would make Squall even _more_ broody angst boy."

"Without the angst." Quistis smiled, and let her friend's fake enthusiasm relax both of them. "Depression is an emotion too, and if his amygdala stopped working, he wouldn't feel that either."

"So what would he feel?"

"Well… nothing."

"Wow…" but as much as she cared about her Commander, this was straying from the point. "What does this have to do with me? Why are you telling me this?"

"It… doesn't have to do with you, it has to do with…"

"…Irvine."

"Yes. See, all our knowledge dictates that if Squall does somehow get into the Barricade, he won't be coming out. The defenses are ten times stronger against things exiting than entering, for obvious reason." She sighed and collapsed back against her chair, causing it to squeak in protest. "But Squall has been known to pull miracles out of… thin air, before." She censored herself at the last moment, but it still earned her a smile. "We need to keep in mind the very unlikely, but still possible, idea that Irvine could be alive, and Squall could find him, and could get both of them out of the Quarantine unharmed.

"But if he did…" She closed her eyes. "The last x-rays picked up something. It's likely that the strain of him blocking his amygdala over and over is going to cause it to collapse and shut down completely on its own, at least temporarily."

"But… wasn't that what you said you were going to do anyway? Turn it off?"

"As a last resort. If there was no other way to help him. It's not… a pleasant option."

"…why? Wouldn't him being okay but boring be better than… pop?"

"Not by much." Quistis flicked through the folders on her desk until she found the one she wanted, but she didn't open. Just looked at it. "There have been cases in the past where people had brain damage in the same areas as Squall is afflicted. There are studies even, of people who are hindered emotionally and in reasoning skills. Who have those areas of their brain functioning at lower levels than normal, or not functioning at all.

"What kind of people?"

"…Sociopaths."

Selphie was very still for a long time. Then her face went blank and she nodded. "I understand… thank you for telling me this. If you don't mind, I need some time to think."

"Of course." Quistis made to get up and help her to the door, but the shorter female walked out on her own and closed the door behind her. Sitting back down, Quistis folded her head into her hands.

"How did I end up having to make these kinds of decisions."

Thirteen seconds later, she realized it and slammed her hand down on the intercom button. "Xu! Stop Selphie before she gets to the Rag! She's going after him!"

* * *

Do you ever get those really odd dreams? Mine last night included this line : "And the A team maketh a sign, and it doth say, 'Thanks for not making us the B team'. And the B team maketh a sign, and it doth say, 'Thanks for not making us the C team'. And the C team maketh a sign, and it doth say, 'You really hate us, don't you'. And the DM maketh a sign, and it doth say 'C team, roll initiative,' and on the back for easy access, 'Bwahaha'." 


	22. Ch 22 Of Silence

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 22 "Of Silence"

by Skandranon

* * *

Most of the moments in his life that he dwelled upon were of the dramatic, life changing variety. Loved ones dying, apocalypses, that sort of thing. This is normal. After all, dramatic moments tend to leave an impression. But sometimes a dramatic moment could be very small and simple. 

He'd been driving down the road headed home from town. He was about midway, where the road dipped into a forest for awhile and the turns grew sharp and hair raising. At that time of the night, the only light came from the phosphorescent lines on the road, the faint gleam of asphalt, the occasional tree limb popping into view, and the glow of the radio. He could still remember some of the lyrics… "If I don't need you, then why does this distance maim my life?" It stayed with him because Rinoa had broken up with him just that afternoon, over lunch. She'd ordered tortellini and salad. That evening, he would curl up in an empty and echoing ballroom, get shitfaced, and sob his drunken woes over a mental link to a deity.

The radio wouldn't shut the hell up, and he was clinging fiercely to denial mode so that ruled out changing the channel.

As one of the turns came up, a thought came with it. _What if I don't turn. What if I just keep going straight, don't brake, don't turn, and just let what happens happen._

He turned anyway, but afterwards had that same thought everytime he drove by that turn. _How badly injured would I get at this speed? Should I slow down to avoid a broken spinal cord and permanent coma, or speed up to avoid an embarrassing call and trying to explain why I need a ride?_

He'd never really labeled it as suicidal thoughts. Suicidal thoughts were where you tried to jump off a balcony or bleed yourself dry to escape the pain. Suicide had nothing to do with that dreary, exhausted blankness he'd felt that night. How could you be suicidal unless you're depressed? He'd never mentioned it to anyone, and never considered it very important. But that night on the ride home stayed with him, a subtle memory, with undefined importance, but vital nonetheless.

This was one of those subtle moments.

They couldn't really be defined or explained. He knew what it was, but he would be lost if he had to describe it to another, or even to himself. Some things are too potent for a conscious mind to handle. The duty then falls to the subconscious, which has always been worryingly competent at handling such things.

In this moment, between these dusty library stacks, curled up in an armchair with the second largest blanket, waiting for Irvine to either die or wake up, Squall knew something was about to happen. And he would never see the world in exactly the same colors again.

It would be a lot more dramatic if there was some heartbreaking music or a fight scene or something. But one of life's ironies is that the best stuff happens in the shower, or in the car, or in some other place where your subconscious brain is doing most of the movement control, leaving you to stare down all the secrets you pushed into your subconscious so you wouldn't have to think about them.

As it was, Squall was bored to tears. He'd read everything worth reading, which was surprisingly little, considering. If he polished his gunblade anymore the blade would slip off the handle. There weren't any clothes to darn, and for better or worse he'd done all he could for the sniper.

He'd distracted himself with exercising until he collapsed, and that had been his first mistake. Exercising is purely automatic motions. Then he'd tried alphabetizing the books on hand. That would have been his second mistake except that he couldn't decide whether to organize by author, title, or genre, and in the end decided to build a book castle. That was his second mistake instead, because not only was it an action heavily repeated in his childhood until it was purely automatic, but it also unearthed memories best left six feet under with a charming epitaph.

He'd glance over at Irvine occasionally, to make sure he was still breathing. He tried to remember how Irvine looked as a child, since he was doing the whole reminiscing bit anyway, but all he could see was the nutshell that was Irvine Kinneas. Not just body features, and not even primarily body features. Mostly it involved wavery half-feelings, labels like "Galbadian" and "tall", and an overall sense of existence. The whole thing was painted over an out-of-focus picture of the cowboy smiling, with eyes a brighter purple than he knew they actually were. It couldn't really be described better than that.

That was his third mistake, because a lot of his thought had centered around Irvine lately, and whenever your thoughts tend to center around something, it's probably going to involve frustration, euphoria, and/or tears. And now his brain was perfectly prepared to do some deep subconscious ruminating, with just the right balance of emotion and lack thereof.

Squall cursed his miserable scrap of blanket and the wretched position of the chair springs. Not really cursing, per se, because he was too tired to bother. Mostly he just lay there and thought about how annoyed he would be if he had the energy.

Irvine twitched in his sleep.

Squall was checking pulse and respiration rate while the second largest blanket was still floating to the floor. The result was the same as the last time he checked, slow but steady, so he returned to his brooding spot and dragged the cover back over his feet. His thoughts strayed from Irvine for the moment and he brooded on the barricade.

He was confidant in his ability to plow through it as he pleased, but that wouldn't make it an easy maneuver, with an injured partner. He could break it down and come back to fetch Irvine, but that would leave the cowboy defenseless, not to mention giving the troops time to regroup. A full frontal assault while dragging his partner would be cumbersome. As far as he knew, the barricade didn't really have any weak points to focus on, and it went all the way around. Underground travel was out, since one of the first prevention steps had been the demolition or filling of every sewer and subway tunnel. Sky travel was severely limited due to lack of sky vehicles. Stashing Irvine near the barricade while he took it down would be difficult, since just inside the wall was thirty feet of used-to-be-buildings, now flat exposed rubble fields. Didn't leave much cover.

He briefly considered tying a grenade to Grrface and tossing him over, but dismissed moombas as not very aerodynamic.

Irvine mumbled something, and Squall twitched. It was too soon for the denial mode to allow another "routine" pulse check, so he reluctantly stayed put.

He still had sand stuck in the edges of his shoes, from that blasted trip to Esthar. The tiny little grains were tenaciously refusing to come out of the corners. They didn't really bother his feet any, but just the fact that they were there was a bit annoying.

The blood had soaked out of his collar just fine. His socks were a different matter.

There was a chunk taken out of the rim of Irvine's hat. Probably from a bullet. It looked innocent enough on its own, sitting on the table missing a little piece of itself, but the sight made Squall's stomach knot.

The boots were pretty much done for, unless Irvine was attached to them enough to get them resoled. The other shoes were little more than scraps of leather, and would be tossed the moment they got home.

The coat was matted with dirt and flaked with red copper. A thread on the hem had come loose and its end was fraying. The seam on one arm had popped and was slowly unraveling. Irvine would be furious. He'd whine and moan about it for days. His poor coat. His precious baby. No, it couldn't be replaced. What, did you toss out a beloved pet once it got old and a little worn around the edges?

Bullets and blood. Holes where bullets whipped through. Near misses that were shrugged off and ignored. Not so near misses. A matter of inches between laughing and decaying.

He was shivering and it wasn't even cold.

It was a miracle Irvine had survived this long, he told himself, and it was a lie. It was no act of faith, just fact. He signed the papers to send off SeeDs on similar missions every week. He would've signed the paper for this one. And then he could've flipped a coin to predict the outcome. Would he be sending someone to victory, or to a promotion and a grave? A few inches were all it took.

He wondered how many inches it was between Irvine waking up, grinning, cracking cheesy jokes, following him on some daredevil escape plan where everything would go perfectly wrong, and the fever stopping his heart.

He wanted nothing more in the world right now than to be held. And it hurt, oh, it hurt. A sweet simple pain that made the world so much clearer. He was across the room, and he set his weight against the side of the sofa. Lay his head on a broad shoulder. Traced bandages with numb fingers. Matched his breath to the pace that lifted and lowered against his cheek.

It was all the right kinds of wrong, and for that moment, he could simply close his eyes and let things be.

The head next to his shifted a few inches to the right. Glazed purple eyes fluttered open and frowned at him.

"Bought damn time you woke up."

"…rr y'uggin' meh?"

"Yeah."

"…nngh…"

"Go back to sleep."

"…"

"…Love you."

"…"

The sun set over a hollow, weary city, and in a library basement two men finally got some rest.

* * *

Authors Notes : (sniff) I think I need a hug. 


	23. Ch 23 Of Shorthand and Fireballs

Pleasantly Depressed – Chapter 23 "Of Shorthand and Fireballs"

by Skandranon

Warnings : Excessive use of the F word. Some death.

* * *

He had an excellent view from here. The overturned truck provided ample cover, and the side mirror was at a perfect angle for him to watch the barricade. The position might be uncomfortable, but such was the price to pay for tactical advantage. 

He was rather depressed by what he saw. Very few sentries spread out haphazardly, and making no effort to conceal their locations. The three closest were even clumped in a group with their backs turned, probably talking. The wall itself was a real obstacle, but not an impossible one. As long as they had the element of surprise, it would be a cinch. If they lost that, though… well, those cannon turrets weren't exactly a welcome mat.

A "Kyou!" and piercing pains in his leg signaled Grrface's arrival. The moomba crawled up to his waist and cheerfully dropped the moist scrap of paper in his lap.

"Gee, thanks."

"Sebrral!"

At least Squall was allowing him to be useful by watching the wall. The gunblader had run off to 'fetch supplies', as he put it. Irvine had tried to tell him that there were no supplies to be had in Timber or he would have them, but as usual he was ignored by the 'man on a mission'.

He wasn't too fond of the idea of an attack on the wall. If he had wanted to leave, he could have pulled it off a month ago while his troop was still here. He'd chosen to stay, to protect the absolutivity of the barricade. Those in charge couldn't afford the possibility of it being breachable. And now Squall wanted to tear it down.

The note this time read "No exp, si stat, spider?" Balamb SeeD shorthand. Irvine was more fluent in Galbadian slang, but he knew it meant "Can't find any explosives. I've got some status magics. Do you think we could climb the wall?"

He doubted explosives would do much damage anyway, but once on the other side, status effects would come in hand nicely, especially given what he'd seen of the sentries' coordination. He wrote "May. Sen mal coor, no eve" on the back of the slip. "Alright fuzzball. You're going to take this to Papa Squall, alright?"

"Ohwgos?"

"Sk-w-aaaaaall."

"Qebejee?"

"Squall? Daddy? Owner guy?"

"Nmerg?"

"…Laguna?"

"Ra-GOOO-fff!"

Irvine held Grrface's jaw shut and winced, but the guards hadn't heard. "Yes. Laguna. Yes. Hush. Go find Laguna." He let go, and the moomba shot away in a dash of orange fur, off to find its master.

Sighing, he turned back to the mirror, and caught sight of a new figure patrolling the wall. So, they had captains on duty afterall. The red uniform got the salutes expected from the sentries, but the fellow didn't bother to stop and talk with his lessers. Typical arrogance of bad training.

The idea occurred to him that maybe they could even slip out unnoticed, if they went by dark. Watch the wall for a few days to learn who stayed where, learn the captain rounds and guard changes, and aim for a weak spot. It worried him that he might not be the first to think of this. But security had been much tighter back then. It was only this lax now because they thought everyone inside was dead. And for that matter, how had Squall gotten in without alerting them?

He kept watch for another hour before Grrface returned. This time the sticky message read "Bethu juugo." Be with you in… fifteen? Charred code.

He had barely finished reading it when Grrface leapt off of him and dashed over to his owner's boots to rub against them affectionately. Squall hoisted him into a pocket, with a muttered "Moombas are bloody slow."

"Anything?"

"Some Sleep and Confuse from draw points. Gasoline from a downed car. Limited med kit. And a mess of odds and ends I left at the safehouse."

"It's a library, Squall."

"It's our safehouse."

"We're safehousing in a library. You don't have to be so official."

"Whatever. See anything useful?"

"At least one captain on duty, and he patrols, but he's your typical incompetent variety. I was thinking a night raid. Up, over, and out before anyone notices."

"Sounds good. You up for running?"

"Pfft. Walking, barely. You want to carry me?"

"If it comes to that. By the way, your shorthand sucks."

"So does your mother, I hear."

"You would know."

"Oh, that's real mature."

"Whatever." Squall curled up next to him against the truck and concentrated retying his bootlaces. "Keep a watch out. I'm taking a breather."

Irvine snorted, but did as asked. There wasn't much to look out for. Down the street he spotted a rat shuffling through debris. He kept an eye on it. Animals were great warning systems. If it bolted for cover, then something was coming. "Squall… I'm not so sure we should try to leave."

"You'd rather rot here?"

Irvine flicked his ear, which earned him a growl. "I came here for a reason. A lot of my troop died for that reason. To prevent the baddies from leaving. If we leave so easily, which I'm guessing we will, what does that say about the baddies' ability to walk out whenever they feel like?"

"Us leaving won't change whether they can get out or not. If they're still alive. I've scouted the city thoroughly, and I didn't find much."

"Then maybe you didn't look hard enough."

"I looked."

"Did you check the movie theatre on the other side of town? Because that's where they tend to hide out."

Squall was frowning at him now, warily. "You've known where they are?"

He scratched his neck. "For a little while, yeah. Not until after my troop left. There's not much I can do against them on my lonesome. Oh, believe me, I've tried. Made their lives miserable for a little while there, before they got too cautious."

"Miserable?"

"Siege tactics. Damaging their water supply, setting up tripwires and traps, Hanging special windchimes that make odd noises so they won't get any sleep. Lots of fun when you're not on the receiving end. But then they started putting up defenses and paying close attention, so I didn't have much opportunity to do anything else." He stretched his back, and winced as something popped. "So, what are your plans for getting us the hell outa here?"

"None whatsoever. Figured we'd blow a hole in the wall."

Irvine grinned. "If you're accepting of alternate ideas, I've got a theory."

He told it to Squall.

"Is that even possible?"

"We'll find out."

* * *

"And then she bloody bit me." 

"Man, that's what you get for dating a Druehill girl. You tell 'em to be gentle, and they see it as a sign of weakness, and go for the jugular."

"What would you know, Lam? Girl you're dating is from Deling. Flighty daydreamer, if I 'member right."

"Don't you go dissin' on my baby."

"Your baby. The same baby I saw with you know who over at the Goth Penguin?"

"Wait…who?"

"You know who."

"That… bastard! That… bit-"

"You can't honestly tell me you didn't know. Oh come on! She's got 'cheat' written all over her!"

"She doesn't!"

"She mooches, bats her eyes, demands attention and then doesn't return calls. She calls you pooky. And the dog?"

"Yeah, well… at least she doesn't bite!"

"So my girl bit me. At least she doesn't cheat."

"Hey, who am I to judge? After all, if you don't wan' em to bite, don't date a woah, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"Did you see that? A movement near the top of the wa… oh. Huh."

"Well I'll be."

"Don't that beat all. Never thought I'd see one out here."

"Chgoki?"

"Well hey there li'l fella. You lost?"

"NyedaarrrrrrrrRRRRRR..."

"What tha oh FUCK!"

"…RRRRROOOOAAAAGRR!"

The guards that were asleep in the barrack tent never woke up as the flaming jeep rolled over them. Ifrit picked up another humvee, lit it on fire, and this time aimed for the captain's tent. The ruckus that commenced was breathtaking. People running everywhere, like in the monster movies. Although these people did a lot more shooting and a little less screaming than the movies. But the premise was the same. Amused, he pounced on a few, flopped onto his back to gnaw on them, and accidentally rolled over on a few more. That was fun too, it turned out, and he gave up his caught prey to scamper through the open area gleefully pouncing everything that moved, and setting fires as he went.

Squall ignored the chaos, counting silently instead. At sixty, he sprinted to the wall and up it, reaching the top at eighty two. The wall ledge was empty, since all the guards had run towards the sounds of screaming. Sliding over the top, he crouched in the shadows of a gun turret, looping a rope beneath its base. He had it ready at ninety eight, and tossed the lengthy end back over the wall.

Having caused sufficient calamity, Ifrit unsummoned himself, and Grrface bounced over to the wall and shimmied up to his master. "Prrtprrve."

"Good boy." A tightening of the rope was the signal, and he put his weight against the other end, the turret leg acting as a crude pulley system. Soon the end came into view, with Irvine clinging to it. But they'd already wasted too much time, and a nearby guard had spotted them. A sleep spell put him down. A gunblade to the neck kept him down. "How you holding up."

"I'm fine. Hyne, Squall, I'm wounded, not-"

"Save it." He leapt to the ground, and Confused the closest sentry before he turned around. A blow to the head and he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Two more turned a corner, but Squall had them pinned, broke their jaws to keep them from shouting, and smacked them over the heads with his gunblade.

A whirring and a thud announced Irvine's ungraceful landing. He hadn't hurt himself getting off the landing, although he winced and groaned simply because he was supposed to. He was getting a little overdramatic with the cursing. Maybe he had actually injured himself, but Squall couldn't see where.

"Irvine?"

Who was that? Dammit, they'd been recognized. Another guard had shown up, this one smart enough to head towards the wall in case the GF was a diversion. They couldn't afford a witness; he'd have to go.

Irvine wasn't being any help. He'd just slid to an odd leaning position, and now stared up at the newcomer with surprise. His jaw worked, as if his mouth was trying to get him to say something, but his brain hadn't caught up.

This new guard hadn't seen Squall yet, so he stayed to the shadow of the barricade, measuring his footsteps carefully.

"Irvine? What in bright blazes…you… I'd heard you were in there, but… sweet mother…"

"…Trent?"

The man had left himself completely open, and the blade slid home easily. A quick slash kept him down for good. "Come on."

"Trent? Holy fuck-"

"We've got an opening. Let's move."

"Squall… you… fuck…"

The cowboy was being sentimental again. They didn't have time for this. "Hold still." He jabbed a pressure point, like Zell had shown him to do, and Irvine went glassy eyed and crumpled. Squall took his weight with the help of Shiva's support, and dragged him to the nearest intact vehicle. The seatbelts in the backseat kept him in place, and there was a blanket in the trunk to keep him warm, just in case.

In the confusion of current events, no one noticed the jeep headed out the main gate. Its solid military issue tires protected it from the row of spikes set across the road to prevent unauthorized exits, and its reinforced front bumper withstood the impact with the metal gate without a scratch. The sentry at the gate did wave and holler a little, but no one paid any attention, and eventually he glumly went back to watching reality shows on his handheld receiver.

* * *

Author's Notes : Spell checking is such a hassle when I make up so many words. Did you notice the RENT reference? Look hard. 


	24. Ch 24 Of Skirts and Suds

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 24 "Of Skirts and Suds"

by Skandranon

* * *

He should be angry. There was a lot to be angry about, surely. But right now his head was too fuzzy to remember all the details. Not fuzzy enough though. Another drink should help with that. 

He'd always prided himself on his ability to hold liquor. It was a detriment at the moment, though. It would take him at least three more drinks before he could forget what he was pissed about. It was an honest mistake, really. A nameless enemy on the battlefield, only this one had a name. Still made him pissed.

Squall, the bastard, was at his side, and refused to leave despite the shoving, and swearing, and a few punches. Now he just tried to ignore the bastard, and focus on his golden drug.

It was a wonderful tavern, if he'd been in a position to appreciate it. Earthy, warm, loud. Solid dark woodwork, candlelight, serving girls with three-stacked skirts smiling at everyone and calling them "sugar". A band, and a thumping good one, with even a woodpiper. Not too many drunks, but just enough to keep it entertaining. A cozy dancefloor with a fair crowd kicking up boots on it. Such was the way of southern Galbadian bars. The folk ran a bit dumber than his people to the northwest, but just as fun loving, and more rowdy.

He'd had a few offers for dance, and so had Squall, and then they'd got knowing smirks when the answer was no. He didn't care what they thought they knew. He was trying to concentrate on his fuzziness here.

_"Lady Rain, let me take you home tonight_

_I've warm blankets and a bed_

_"Lady Rain, with your clothes so damp_

_You can borrow mine instead."_

Finished with their song, the band paused for hoots and hollers, then launched into a well known classic that got the audience singing along.

_"Give me a gun and give me a target,_

_Give me a girl and give me a room,_

_"Give me a beer on another man's tab,_

_And I'll never see sign of gloom,_

_"Give me a war and a reason to fight it,_

_Give me a song and a partner to twirl,_

_"But if I get only two of these things,_

"…Just give me the beer and the girl," Irvine muttered, while the rest of the room belted it. He downed the rest of his glass, motioned the nearest triple skirt for a refill, and got caught in the eyes of a brunette in the corner.

She really seemed keen on him, whoever she was. Lovely, sure. Big bright amber eyes. Simple face, but with a sweetness to it. He almost got up to go say hello before he remembered he was engaged. Then remembered he was having an affair with Squall. And then remembered Trent, and ducked into his refill with renewed vigor.

It was around that time that he noticed that some of the locals had noticed who they were sharing space with. Squall might not get recognition on sight at the Estharian palace, but most southern Galbadians knew at a glance the favorite outfit of the leader of "those blackcharred SeeDs". A lot of the country's military was recruited from this area; the itch for fistfights ran in the local genes. And it was making itself known at the second table over, where a redheaded farmhand was using one too many insults of a racial variety.

_Let him get too drunk to start anything,_ Irvine prayed, _and let me get too drunk to care._ Amen and another swig.

Squall, for his part, just looked bored, but made no suggestion that they do anything else. He glared up at the redhead when the fellow stumbled over, spitting "Pitts" and "Humblades" in their general direction.

Groaning, Irvine hauled himself to his swaying feet and slapped on a grin. He stepped into the line of sight between the hick and his companion. "Friend, you look a mite thirsty. Why don't you have a drink on me, and then take one of these lovely ladies around the dance floor."

The hick spat on his boot, earning a snarl from the nearest barmaid. "I ain't your friend, greenback, and I don't like the company you keep."

"You'll take my drink, friend, and take a seat." Irvine's grin wasn't any less, but his tone had dropped a notch.

The nearest barmaid apparently knew the hick, and smacked his shoulder. "Gathrie, don't you go bothering these outers. You go run on back to your folk. Get!" Gathrie reluctantly slipped back to his own table, knowing better than to argue with a Galbadian waitress.

Irvine turned to sit down, and paused to blink as Squall slipped by growling something about a bathroom, headed in the direction the hick had taken. Deciding that this was beyond his help, the sniper slumped into his chair, gulped down another shot fast as he could, and found that he still wasn't alone.

"Hi," said the brunette, and stared at him intently. On stage, the band started into The Death of Bille Jo.

_"Now Bille Jo was a farmer, and not too very bright_

_And it was to his misfortune he got drunk that Tuesday night,_

_"The Gilded Cat was lively, the windows shone with light,_

_And the girls were in their dancing curls_

_With their dresses pulled up tight,_

_"When Bille Jo saw An Mable, oh lordy what a sight,_

_But she was with her boyfriend on that fateful Tuesday night."_

Much of what happened next was the drink talking. He was soaked, and upset, and here was a willing thing with very nice legs. Somehow they ended up in one of the bedrooms upstairs, with him baffled by the latch on her underblouse. He distinctly remembered her coaxing him every step of the way, and him saying "I can't" at least twice, but by that point he was already too far in to say "No". Some part of him was surprised and sulking a little at his sudden inability to hold his liquor, but that was an afterthought given the current circumstances, and his brain didn't have much room for any thought right now.

"It's alright, Irvine, I'll take it off," she said, and did. She wrapped her arms around his neck and teased his earlobe with her teeth.

"When'd ah tellye m'name?" he wondered aloud, between mouthfuls of shoulder. His hands paid more attention to her lower back, and the newly discovered region left by the stripped underblouse.

"A while ago. A good while. You're kinda cute when you're drunk, you know."

"Thnx." By now conversation was on autopilot, and he barely noticed that she was still speaking. There were far more interesting things. Things that could be a little better if they were a little flatter and more muscled, but it was a body, and the owner was kissing his neck. He could never get turned on when he was drunk, anyway.

"I've missed this."

"Mmhnm."

"You miss me?"

"Mmph."

"You even remember my name?"

"Shrry, knda outait rh now."

"Course. It's Sensiny, by the way."

"Ssn. Rht."

"Shh, let me do that. You always were clumsy when this sussed."

"…"

"Irvine?"

"…"

"Aw Hyne, not again."

* * *

The Galbadian hadn't stood a chance. He was sloshed, and too angry to think, and poorly trained at any sort of combat. But he was a threat, if a small one, and he was taken care of. Plus he was annoying. 

He stood up to head back inside, and got bumped into by a very apologetic and very familiar brunette.

"Squall! Squaaaall! Eeee!" Selphie hugged his neck tightly, and then suddenly let go and jumped back with a terrified, nervous gaze. "Squall?"

"Selphie. What are you doing here."

"Speak for yourself! Do you have any idea how hard you are to track! Where's Irvine? You didn't… you …. is he okay?"

"He's fine. Drunk. Inside."

"He's okay?"

"He's drunk and recovering from a fever. He's fine."

She seemed awfully timid around him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. She bounced her way inside, scanned the room on her tiptoes, and turned to him in puzzlement. "Where?"

"At the tabl… well, he was over there."

"I'll find him! You just, um, stay right here. Don't, um…. don't kill any…do anything. Do. Anything. Um. Don't drink! Drinking bad. Heh. No beer. I'm just gonna go. Yeah. Look for my Irvy. Stay."

"Whatever."

He sat at the table, and listened to the performers. He tried to learn the dances by watching, and gave it up, realizing that much of it was improvised.

_Squall? Yoohoo, can you hear me?_

A group of men with a hostile air came in the door shoulder to shoulder, hands lingering near scabbards and holsters. The leader spoke with a bartender for a moment, who nodded in Squall's direction. Immediately all the hostility was aimed towards him. The group marched closer.

_Guess not._

Squall had his holdout gun up against the underside of the table, pointed at the man's kneecap. No one could see it at this angle, and his other hand was in clear view on the table. He watched them come closer, marked them down as an immediate but low level threat, and stared.

Pretty soon the leader figured out that he wasn't going to win this staring contest. "You the one did that ta Gathrie?"

"He should watch what he says in public."

"Ain't the point. You comin' into our town, beatin' up our boys? Don't sit well with me. Man was wet to tha bone, and you're plain as day sober, and armed if I'm guessin' your shoulder angle right."

Squall mentally upped the threat level to mild, and stared.

"So I'm thinkin', my boy Gathrie got rolled by an outer, unfairly, and a Pitt at that. I'm thinkin' I want to be a mite angry 'bout this. And I'm thinkin' you're gonna come have a talk with us outside."

"I'm thinking no."

All the nearby waitresses had stopped what they were doing and now watched with hands placed defiantly on hips. They didn't show favor to either side, but they were obviously not keen on a fight taking place indoors.

"I'm thinkin' you're gonna come talk with us one way t'other, an' it'd be better on ya if'n ya come peaceful-like."

"Still thinking no."

"Jeffton, don't you start nothing in my pub."

"Won't be me startin' it, Clarine." The leader eyed Squall carefully, with a gunman's squint. The others in the group circled the table until all angles were blocked off by a Galbadian looking for a tussle. Squall upped the threat level to low average, and cocked his gun. The sound was audible now, seeing as the band had stopped, and so had most of the conversation. He noticed the lack of a twitch in his opponent, and upped the level to medium average.

The tavern shook with a muffled explosion.

"What in the name of Serendip was that?"

"The upstairs wall blowing off, probably." He fired.

They tried to gang up on him, but he kept them at bay with wild swings of his gunblade. The locals must've been used to such fights, as all noncombatants evacuated in an orderly manner, and those that couldn't hide behind whatever they could find. The band carefully packed up their instruments.

Squall knocked over his table for side cover, and another for more. His enemies hadn't pulled out missile weapons yet, but when they did, he'd need a place to hide. Two came at him with long, cruel daggers, hoping to get inside his reach. He broke the wrist of one of them, and smashed the blade of the other with his own hard enough to bend the little knife. Piss poor tempering job.

A brunette girl came screaming down the sidestairs and bolted for the door. She didn't make it far, as Selphie was hot on her heels and knocked her down with a blow from her nunchucks. The girl scrambled under the bar, while Selphie shouted "Don't you crawl away, hussy!"

"Didn't know! Swear! Didn't know!"

"Get back here when I'm hitting you!"

Realizing that there were now two fights going on, the few civilians left hiding ran for the nearest exit, and even the waitresses headed for the backrooms.

The leader of the gang wasn't going anywhere, despite his injury, but he was smart enough to use a gun instead of getting close. Squall threw up a Protect and concentrated on the others. He kicked one into a wall, but couldn't pin him there for a finishing stroke because another jumped on his back and tried to strangle him with a belt. That one got a gunblade to the stomach, but the angle was awkward because the guy was behind him. It got him of Squall's back, though, and out of the fight long enough for him to turn around. He didn't get a chance to knock his head off with a solid swing, because another was going for his legs with a cricket bat. He twisted in his step enough to take the blow on the sides of his ankles. It smarted, but he stayed upright, and the attacker was stooped over nicely for a knee to the guts. He couldn't continue with a crack to the back of the neck, however, because now his Protect was used up, and the leader was gunning for his head.

He dove for the upturned tables, and had a soft landing on Selphie, who was hiding from the beer bottles the brunette was tossing as cover fire.

"Hey! What are they mad at you for?"

"They're Galbies. Who's the girl?"

"A man stealing tart. I'll handle it."

A bottle smashed against the table, and suds dripped down into his fur collar. _My coat better not smell like whiskey after this._ "Where's Irvine?"

"Upstairs, asleep. I'll handle him later. Wanna team up?"

"The girl after, the men now. Take down broken nose; I'll take big and bleeding."

"Too right! Squall, are you insane?"

"Not now."

"Is that a 'no' or a 'don't want to talk about it'?"

"Not. Now."

"We really do need to talk about it. Quissie says you could go pop. I don't want you to go pop! So preventive measures must be taken."

"Selphie. For once. In your life. Stop chattering while we're under gunfire."

* * *

Author's Notes : All lyrics herein are genuine Galbadian folk tunes (written by yours truly). For added effect, read this chapter while listening to the song "Beer for my horses" by Toby Keith and Willie Nelson. 


	25. Ch 25 Of Wallflowers and Conditioner

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 25 "Of Wallflowers and Conditioner"

* * *

The first thing Irvine realized about the universe was that his hat was missing. Headache, wooziness, and empty bed aside, the lack of hat was cause for much alarm. Once he found the hat everything would be okay. It wasn't on the bed, so he pulled himself over the edge. It wasn't under the bed, so he managed to collapse to the floor. It wasn't on the floor, so he wriggled over to the closet. It wasn't in the closet, so he wriggled to the bathroom. It wasn't there either. After a few minutes and a couple more sweeps, three things occurred to him. One, there was no more room to search. Two, that meant the hat must be outside the room. Four, if he wanted to go outside, he needed to learn to walk. 

Once he got passed the walking test, barely, he solved the doorknob puzzle, and set himself to working on the stairwell mystery. Gravity gave him a hand with that one. He'd probably hurt later. Maybe.

It was NOISY downstairs.

It got louder when another group, in matching outfits, came in the door. One of them had a loudspeaker. They switched it on. "WE ARE HERE FOR THE SEEDS. ALL OTHER PEOPLES, VACATE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY OR FACE CONSEQUENCES."

Irvine yelled back "Shaddup!" and rubbed his ringing head.

Squall grabbed his pants and pulled him behind the table. He fell down. Something smashed nearby.

"Heya Selphie, whadarya doin' 'ere babe?" He leaned into give her a hug and smooch, but she just pushed him back. Hard, actually. Ow. She glared hotly, and shot a Meltdown at the new group. They all fell into defensive positions and started firing back. Growling, Selphie hollered "Cover me!" over the din and bolted for the stage. Squall kept the enemy pinned down with ice spells until she could set up a little barricade out of the drum kit and speakers.

Irvine leaned against the table to keep from falling over, befuddled. The table wobbled under him. "D'I do somethin' wron'?"

The local hick team was thrown off by the newcomers. A general expression of confusion went through them, and resolved in a unanimous look to Jeffton for leadership. He snarled "Damn Timber Rezzies can't mind their own charred business." That seemed to be the signal to attack, so the two teams laid into each other.

Squall noticed that everyone had become too occupied to attack him, and took the opportunity to feel Irvine up. No, wait, he was checking for injuries. Dang. Wait. Selphie was here.

Selphie was angry at him.

_…Um…_

_…Oh Shit!_

…_Hey! There's my hat!_

Grinning, he crawled towards the bar and his discovered hat. Squall started squawking, but whatever he said could wait. More important thing here.

Something pinged near his legs and back, and made the hair on his neck sizzle, but it could wait too. Only a few more inches and he was behind the bar, and within reach of his precious baby.

"Huh? Who're you?"

"Well hello to you too, sugar."

"Yer… yer da Sssee! Ah dated yoo." He beamed, happy at having remembered. He was pretty sure it was a big accomplishment.

"Yeah, you did. Just, don't move, aight? You're in a good cover spot."

He plopped the hat back on his head. It fit perfectly. All was right with the world.

There was an awful lot of shouting in the room. He peeked round the corner to see what was up. People were falling down all over the place. Red all over the walls. And that guy's head came off. Eww.

Sssee pulled him back. "Stay put, I said."

"Tha' guyz 'ead came 'ff."

"Yeah, that happens. You just couldn't keep a low profile, couldja? Had to go blow up a bar. I was gonna smuggle you outa town before they caught wind you were here." She loaded the chambers of a tiny pistol carefully. "So much for that." She handed it to him. "They're tranq rounds. Shoot if anyone grabs ya." Taking a quick glance over the counter, she hoisted her semi automatic and smiled. "Stay." She winked and leapt into the battleground.

She fell right back again, torn in half.

"Ey!" This was probably what angry felt like. "Ya sho' mah… ex? Don' do tha'!" He stared at the gun, and figured out what the trigger was for. "Asshole!" He couldn't see from here, so he pulled himself up to his knees and took down the first six people that looked like good targets. Then he took her automatic. "Squelphie! Saall! Wallflower! No, wai', tha's Gee Gar'en. Um… Starburst?"

"Oh shit," Squall muttered. "Selphie, DOWN!"

"Wha'ever's code. Get otta der way!" He switched the gun to automatic, stood up, and raked the room.

Then his chest HURT.

Selphie was standing over him saying how stupid he was, and crying. Squall was groping him. No, wait, he was tying a tourniquet around his thigh. Dang.

"'ere's mah hat? Hadit minit 'go…"

"I've got your hat. I've got your stupid, stupid hat, you stupid idiot. Don't you EVER do that again."

"'kay. G'mme da hat."

She pressed the hat onto his head. "Sometimes you're the bravest, sweetest, most selfless guy I know, and I never want to lose you. Other times I want to strangle you with a guitar string."

"Ah lik' da firs' one. S'rry bou' bein' wit' da smooches wit' Sk'all."

Squall twitched, and Selphie snickered. "You were with that girl, silly, not Squall, and I'll hurt you for that later. Right now you need to rest."

"Yer stan'in' on her foo'."

"What?"

"Her foo'. Da girl. Yer standin' in her."

"Whoops. Oh, wow. Eww. Oh Hyne. Ewww! All over the place! Guts everywhere! Ewwwwww! Let's get out of this place!"

"Grab his legs." Squall took him by the shoulders, careful of the places that hurt, and they dragged him out the backdoor. The one made out of a big hole in the wall.

His hat fell off.

"Get da hat!"

"You and your thrice cursed hat!"

* * *

_Not me. Anyone but me. Please. For the love of… aw dammit._

Selphie sat down next to him on the seats that lined the train hallway, sniffling. She very much had a look of sorrow that desired to be expressed, loudly and frequently, to anyone who would listen. And it appeared she fully expected him to.

_The gods are laughing at me._

_Ha ha, love. Call it karma._

_Shaddup._

Selphie peered up at him with wet eyes, lips trembling. "So, h… he's going to be alright, right? Right?"

"Don't know. He's been through a lot of injuries recently."

"It's that stupid…" She huffed out her breath, and ducked her head. "He's always so stupid…"

_There are sixty eight people on this train. She couldn't whine at the conductor?_

"I just… I love him, I know. He's great. Really. He's just so…"

"Stupid," Squall supplied.

"Yeah. No! He's not stupid. He's really smart, really. He's just…"

Squall realized that he didn't know where Grrface was.

"Just… you know?"

"No."

"No? Oh. Well, he's…" she huffed, and shifted in her seat purposefully. "He's an idiot! He's always chasing some girl, and can never keep a date, and he's always distracted even when he's sweet talking you, and I think I'm exaggerating. But it's true! He can be a real… a real…"

Squall could guess the word she was looking for, and made a point of refusing to say it for her.

"… A real… MAN! You know?"

"Yes. I mean no."

"See! Men are so… so… fickle! Gah! I mean, aren't I good enough for him? Huh!"

"Um…"

"No, don't say it! If I was, he wouldn't have to chase tail, so I'm not!" She sobbed into her hands.

_Squall, comfort her. You owe her that._

_I didn't do it!_

_Oh yes you did. She just doesn't know it._

_She's gonna cry at me!_

_A little salt water never hurt anyone except maybe slugs._

_Are you calling me a slug?_

_Squall._

_As far as insults go, you could've picked a more-_

_SQUALL._

_Alright already._

"Squall? Am I unlovable?"

_Oh she didn't just ask… Shiva! It's a trap! I don't want to do it!_

_And you're going to walk into that noose with head held high. Go to it._

_Shiva!_

_Squall._

Women. "No, you're not… you're not unlovable."

"Then why doesn't he love me!"

"He does. He…gets distracted."

"I'm not enough to keep him distracted? He has to go prowling after the first ugly bitch that-"

"Ugly?"

"-gives him the time of hour?"

"It's not… look. He loves you. He was-"

"Don't you try and blame it on him being drunk."

"Drunk? He wasn't drunk whe- right. Drunk. I wasn't going to. He's…" _How am I supposed to explain Irvine when I don't understand the cowboy either?_ "Look. Not everything in real life is like those TV shows you watch. People make stupid decisions. But that doesn't make the decisions _wrong._"

"You think he should dump me!"

"I didn't… don't put words in my mouth! Look. Irvine was with… that girl… because he probably was interested in her. He might even like her. That doesn't make him love you any less. And when it's all over, he goes back to your bed at night. And that should be enough, damn it! Even if that…girl… cares about him, even if she might love him, he's not going to even look at her twice because he's got you! And he's always going to have you!"

"…Squall? What are you-"

"I'm not through! You really don't get it, do you? Irvine's a MAN. Just like you said. He's never going to be perfect. He's going to make stupid, regretful mistakes. And you're going to hate him for them, but you can't let yourself, because in the end, he tries to do what's right. Isn't that what matters!"

"Squall… I know he-"

"And you know what? Your hair conditioner sucks! It's too watery!"

"…Did we switch channels? I think I missed a memo."

Squall roared in frustration and punched the chair, which thankfully held. Then he remembered Selphie said something. "What?"

"Squall?"

"What."

"Hair conditioner?"

"Hair conditioner?"

"You were talking about my hair conditioner?"

"We were talking about Irvine cheating."

"Yeah, and then you jumped into…" A puzzled frown crossed her face, then jumped into outraged shock.

_Oh shit. She knows._

She hopped up and pointed at him accusingly.

"I didn't-"

"YOU!"

"I can explain!"  
"You stole my hair conditioner!"

"We did- what?"

"You owe me a new bottle! Do you have any idea how much they cost? I had to import it from Trabia! It's my favorite brand, and I couldn't find my bottle so I had to use Irvine's, and men's hair stuff is NOT meant for a feminine body! I reeked! Like spice! Your fault!"

"…Sorry?"

"Damn right you're sorry!" She huffed indignantly, then blinked, and smiled. "Thanks, Squall. You're really good at this talking stuff, even if you don't want to admit it."

"Huh?"

"I thought I was sad, when I really just needed to be angry at someone. And Irvine's too hurt to be angry at. You're a good friend. I'm gonna go check the buffet car!"

Squall watched her skip off, and felt a piece of his logic functions go with her. _Did I just win or lose that argument?_

_You came out alive. I'll call it a win._

_Yay for our side._ He punched the chair again, but without any real strength behind it.

The nearby car door slid open, and Irvine blinked at him sleepily, IV still attached and dangling along the floor. "Y'argu'n w' Seffie?"

"Was."

"Don'. She eatcha live. Say yes'm, no'm, luvya darlin'" He nodded firmly, turned and fainted.

"If I said that to Selphie, you'd be the one coming after me with the nunchucks. Damn hypocrite." Sighing, he hauled himself up to drag Irvine back to the bed.

He was laying the Galbadian down when the train jerked, coming to a stop. It lost him his balance, and he went down beside the sniper on the mattress.

"D'nwrg," Irvine murmured.

"No stops scheduled until Deling. We can't be there yet." He meant to go see what was the matter, but Irvine grumbled something again, and he couldn't bring himself to leave.

_Squall, Selphie's just down the hall…_

_I know. Believe me, I know._

The cowboy was flushed from all the excitement of recent days, and it stood out against his paleness from blood loss. His hair was mussed and frizzy, and probably hadn't been washed in a week. Squall just looked. And petted a little, but mostly looked.

Selphie pulled the door open while his hand was cupping Irvine's shoulder. His arm shot back of its own volition, and he did his best not to look guilty.

She smiled sweetly at him. "It's good that Irvine's got as good a friend as you. Means I don't have to worry as much. Hey, no good food, but the train people say we've stopped because the tracks got blown up or something. We'll have to get off here."

"Blown up?"

"Yeah, apparently the people from Timber weren't so happy about being evicted. It's a big mess. We should call Garden. Cid would know what to do. Should we try and take Irvine with us, or what?"

"You go look for a car for us. I'll watch him."

"Thanks! Knew I could count on you." She bounced out of the door, but popped back in after only a moment. "Hey, Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't make any stupid decisions." She giggled. "Man." With that last word, she headed off.

* * *

Author's Notes : Since you missed most of the action because Irvine was too drunk to describe it well, I'll give you a play by play. The local group of Galbadians were still facing off with Squall, while Selphie helped him (ignoring the 'hussy' for the moment), when in comes a Timberian Resistance group (displaced from their homes by the whole Quarantine thing). If we remember our FFVIII history, Timberians HATE Galbadians. And vice versa, probably. So they launched into battle with each other. Why the "Rezzies" wanted the SeeDs, though, we may never know. 

Then Irvine got pissed and hosed them all down. Squall and Selphie took whoever was left, then tended to their fallen comrade. Then left before the local authorities could arrive. The end!

And yes, Sensiny was Irvine's ex girlfriend. And he's forgotten this because Ifrit is finally getting around to eating some of his memories.


	26. Ch 26 Of Glass

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 26 "Of Glass"

Warning – Much violence

* * *

When they got to Deling, the city was inching towards madness. Thousands of people crowded the streets, of all nationalities, some with signs, most shouting. There were men in armor trying to give orders over the crowd, but no one cared. There were vendors trying to take advantage of the population swell, but they too were ignored. Everyone was angry, and wanted to be heard. All at once. 

There was no way the car was going to get through. Already people were marching around it, and even over it if they had to. There was also no way they were going to get Irvine, who was blissfully unconscious sprawled out in the back seat, to any sort of safety in this chaos.

Squall got out and tried to yell "Get the fuck away from the car!", but no one heard him. He tried yelling that he was SeeD. Still no attention. He tried actually hitting someone. They fell back into the crowd, which surged forward to fill the gap.

Selphie hopped to the front of the car, and perched on the hood. "Get in and steer! I'll clear the way!"

He nodded, and got in. He couldn't get the door closed because some idiot had decided to grab it. He kicked the guy until he let go.

Selphie shot a Water into the throng. It gushed like a fire hydrant, knocking back whoever it hit. Squall moved the car forward the inch or two that had gained them. "It's not good enough! We need something stronger!" But now even Selphie couldn't hear him, and shot out another Water. Before he could move the car again, he heard glass shatter, as a protestor hit a window.

"Fucker!" Squall bellowed and bolted for him, dragging him inside the car to pummel until he was unrecognizable.

"Squall!" Selphie was leaning back into the car now, and another window was breaking. Irvine's eyelashes flickered as a piece of glass fell onto his cheek.

"Keep them back!" he roared, and shoved the protestor back out the window. He saw a picket sign being aimed for the window nearest the gunner, and dove to shield his partner's face before the glass fell.

Then sirens began wailing, and people began screaming instead of shouting. The crowd thinned.

The soldiers were using crowd control now. They fired status spells into the group. Some ran in circles after being Confused. Others fell to the ground after a Sleep, and were probably trampled. Others waved their arms about, blinded by Darkness. Selphie got smacked with a Silence.

(Esuna!) She mouthed to him.

He shook his head. They had none left.

(Fuck) she mouthed.

The crowd broke up around them and ran in every direction. But the tactic wasn't perfect; it confused and frightened the protestors, but it also made them panic. Panicking people make really stupid decisions.

A nearby girl rushed the line of soldiers, wielding her sign over her head like a sword. She never reached them. Threatened, they opened fire for real.

That pretty much sealed it. The protest turned into a riot.

It was only seconds before gunfire, bricks, and fire cocktails were flying overhead. Police were ripping holes into little children. Little children were bludgeoning policemen's heads in. Everything made of glass got broken. A lot of things that shouldn't have been breakable got broken too. Squall took a cinderblock to the head, and saw red.

_Fucking dogs, make you beg…_

He rammed into the crowd with all his power behind him. His gunblade whipped and flashed, and crimson droplets rained from the sunny sky. He tore out throats with his bare hands. He cracked skull with his bare knuckles. He ground ligaments beneath his feet. And it felt so good. So right. Make them fucking BLEED.

_Squall, don't!_

The soldiers were nothing. The police were nothing. He gutted them and flung their entrails around like confetti. He gutted the children too. And then he turned on the protesters.

And found himself facing down Quistis.

_Bitch. What's she doing here?_

She had her whip out. She had a hand aimed at him. "Leonhart, stand down."

He sneered. "Bitch. Don't tell me what to do."

"Leonhart, stand down or else."

He had her neck pinned to the asphalt beneath his boot in mere moments. "Or else is me snapping your spine."

The blow from behind he didn't see coming. He had to step off Quistis to keep his balance. She twisted out from underneath him, and like a smart woman, ran for her miserable life. Oh yeah, he was killing whoever just did that.

"Why don't you just settle yourself down, Squall."

_Oh fuck NO. Not that fucker._ Squall turned slowly, and pinned down Laguna with contempt in his gaze. "Hello daddy."

Laguna smirked grimly. "Figures you'd have to be out of your mind before you called me that."

"You let that Trepe bitch get away. I'm thinking I'm going to force feed you your gallbladder."

"Son, don't make me abort you; it's a bit late into the trimester. There'll be complications."

"Should've worn a condom." He eyed the automatic Laguna was packing, and started circling. His father kept step with him.

"I did. Fun fact… petroleum can disintegrate latex."

"Knew you didn't want me." Squall smirked. "Sis was always your favorite."

"You can quit with the trying to get me all choked up. I know that look. I'm not going to let you kill me."

"I'd like to see you stop me."

"Wish granted." Laguna fired a volley at his knees. They buckled under him. He caught himself by grinding his gunblade into the ground, but now the older man was rushing him, aiming for an uppercut to the jaw with the butt of his rifle.

He grabbed the man's lapels and pulled him past so the blow didn't connect. He punched him square in the back, to break the spine. But Laguna was familiar with such techniques, and yielded into the blow until he was nearly bent backwards, and used the angle to knee Squall in the face.

_That's it. Death's too good for this fucker._

Squall grabbed the knee before it could retreat, and pulled. Laguna was thrown off, and began falling. But he had a fist clenched in Squall's hair… _my HAIR of all things…_ and dragged him down as well. Face hit asphalt. But that was secondary. There were more important things. Like making the fucker _scream._ And his fingers, locked straight and jabbed into an abdominal pressure point, were doing a good job of it. He reached with his other hand to cup Laguna's chin, with his thumb arching up into the soft place beneath the bone. All it would take was a simple press, and half the skin on the face could be ripped off, if he timed it right.

Laguna didn't give him the time. They rolled over, and his father went for the eyes. He blocked, but that left his stomach open. It got a knee rammed into it hard.

_We're playing dirty now? I can play dirty._ He went for the throat. Bit into the soft flesh around the base. Tore it with a head jerk.

A headbutt sent him reeling, and he cursed. Laguna had set him up for that. _Fucker!_ He bucked and scratched at the limbs that were suddenly holding him hostage. Another headbutt before he could recover. A knee to the crotch. A solid punch to the jaw.

Selphie walloped Laguna over the head with a stop sign. (You okay?) she mouthed.

_Bitch! I didn't need your fucking help!_ He debated whether to kill Selphie or concentrate on the greater threat.

Laguna bashed Selphie in the jaw with a wild swing of his rifle. She dropped instantly.

Squall took advantage of the distraction to punch Laguna in the groin. _Fuck! Asshole's wearing a jockstrap._ He backed up to lick his wounds and tack stock, retrieving his gunblade.

"You were expecting to run into this sort of situation, daddy?"

"It happens more often than I'd like during these sort of events." He waved a hand absently towards the nearby courthouse, steps, and podium, over which a banner read 'Estharian Treaty Conference'. "Apparently the locals didn't much care for my speech. After all the time it took to write it, too."

"Should've stuck to B-rated magazines. More your style."

"They weren't B-rat-" He backpedaled away quickly from the swung blade, and dodged the thrown brick. "Squall, I'm not going to go on about you bein' sick, since I gather you'd not listen. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let you kill civilians just because you've got a burr up your bum."

"It's not a burr, and it's not my bum," Squall smirked.

"Heh. Lemme guess, the cowboy?"

"You're the sharp one, aren't you?"

"Educated guess. You think I keep Kiros around for his sparkling personality?"

Squall threw another brick. Laguna sidestepped it. "I'm not gay."

"Course not, course not. Bi is the term, I hear."

He lunged in for an arcing swing, but Laguna neatly switched positions with him, and they were back to circling. "I'm not that either."

"Hate to break it to ya, but most heteros don't go around sticking burrs up other men's bums."

"How would you know? Mum's probably the only girl you ever fucked."

"So now we've gone through the denial and defensive stages."

"What say we skip on to anger?"

"You are aware he's getting married, right?"

Squall rushed in for an upward slice.

Laguna pivoted, stepped onto Squall's foot, and pressed down. Bone broke. An elbow jab to the arm knocked the blade out of his grip.

Squall kicked Laguna's shooting arm, evening the battlefield as the rifle skittered away across the road. He brought the wounded arm up and cracked it against Laguna's shoulder, dropping him to a crouch.

Laguna grabbed the back of Squall's neck as he fell and yanked, pulling him down as well.

Squall jammed his hand at Laguna's windpipe.

Laguna shifted enough so that it glanced off his collar bone.

Squall seized Laguna's jacket and pulled him forward and down onto a clenched fist.

Laguna heaved to the side away from Squall, and lashed out, cracking him across the forehead.

Squall yanked Laguna with him as he tumbled back, and brought a leg up to catapult the man over him.

Laguna grabbed the leg and jerked Squall along with him.

Squall put his feet down straight mid throw and used the force to throw himself farther than Laguna intended, landing in a somersault and grabbing his abandoned gunblade as he passed.

Laguna saw the motion, dove for his own gun and opened fire as he came back up to a kneeling position.

Squall cast his last Protect and swung his gunblade in an arc to reverse his momentum. He dropped into a runner's crouch and pushed off towards Laguna, gunblade aimed straight forward.

Laguna drove the blade up over his head with the barrel of his rifle, and tried for a round kick.

Squall broke off the kick with a knee, and landed his leg on Laguna's instep.

Laguna wrenched his rifle up square into Squall's underjaw.

Squall stepped backwards, striking out in a downward slash with his blade to bring his weight forward.

It connected, tore through Laguna's uniform and clanged against his bulletproof vest.

"Cheat," Squall growled. He cuffed Laguna in the stomach, stepped across with his left foot to land on Laguna's left, brought his right up to press against his hip, and applied force, driving his opponent downwards. They may be similarly matched for training, and his speed and youth equaled by Laguna's experience, but Squall was heavier from muscle, and had the might of deities behind him. He landed on top, broke the wrist that held the rifle, pressed an arm against Laguna's windpipe, and brought his sword up, aimed straight for the ribcage. He could puncture the armor at this angle if he put enough weight into it.

Laguna cast a Sleep on him.

* * *

Author's Notes – All combat moves tried out in person, with help from a reluctant large teddy bear. 


	27. Ch 27 Of Lattices and Paperweights

Pleasantly Depressed Ch 27 – Of Lattices and Paperweights.

By Skandranon

* * *

The music started. That was his cue. But he really didn't want to do this. 

Zell kicked him, as was his duty, and Irvine reluctantly trudge down the middle of the large room, boots scuffing sullenly on the carpet. His cheeks burned from the snickers he got, and he heard someone mutter "He had to wear the hat."

_I really don't want to do this._ He slowed to a near stop, and got another kick for it, this time to the thigh. A glance behind showed Zell grinning viciously, ready to carry out his part of the ceremony as much as was needed. Holding back a groan, he slunk his way up to the podium.

He stood before the judge like a condemned man. The elderly fellow snorted, and made a twirling motion with his hand. Zell grabbed his shoulders and spun him around so that he faced the audience. _Oh right. This direction. Great, now I have to watch them watching me …Did that guy in the corner just flick me off?_

The music changed, cueing the next group. In came Quistis in a blue dress, walking steadily to the beat with pose and grace. She took her place opposite Zell as if stepping up to the winner's circle in a tournament. In came Nida, carrying his little pillow like a sacred artifact. In came the youngest girl of Edea's newly reconstructed orphanage, a darling little thing that he didn't even know the name of, carrying a basket of flower petals. She froze when she saw the crowd, turned bright red, and ran out bawling. Everyone got a good chuckle, and Edea followed her out to comfort the dear.

The music switched to something far more dramatic and recognizable, and everyone turned to face the door.

In came Selphie in white, bouncing and grinning, holding a bouquet.

_Sweet burning darkness, I'm gonna faint._

She skipped down the aisle, dragging Cid along by his arm, then remembered she was supposed to do it slower, and walked carefully and solemnly. Then she waved at the faces she recognized in the crowd, and forgot she wasn't supposed to skip, and hopped the rest of the way.

He felt like something had crawled inside his throat and was squeezing his tonsils.

She landed smoothly by the alter and beamed up at him, swinging her flowers bashfully. Cid followed in her wake, shaking his head in amusement.

The priest cleared his throat. "Who gives this girl to this man?"

The Headmaster stepped forward. "On her behalf, I do."

Irvine gnawed the inside of his lip.

The priest nodded, and Cid took his seat.

"We gather here toda-"

Zell stepped a little too far back, tripped over the lighting cord, and knocked over one of the ornamental columns.

"Zeeeeell!"

He caught it, and put it upright. It wobbled, and almost fell over. He put it upright again. "Sorry. Sorry. I'll get it." He set it firmly down, and stepped back, right into the lattice archway. It toppled over, luckily hitting no one as Quistis stepped neatly out of the way.

"ZELL!"

"Sorry!"

Selphie threw down her bouquet in disgust. "Are you going to do this at the real ceremony too!"

"Hey, it's not my fault Broody's too doped to make it! I'm supposed to be the ringbearer you know!" He snorted and leaned against the wall for effect. There wasn't actually a wall there, however, and his fall tore the curtains down.

Selphie let out a squeal of frustration, and marched towards the door. She spun around halfway and marched back down, pecked Irvine, murmured "I do", and returned to her dramatic exit. "Rehearsal cancelled on account of blond idjit!" she called over her shoulder.

_Oh thank Hyne._

Quistis jabbed him in the solar plexus. "Go _after_ her."

He found himself pacing up the aisle, as if he actually had a choice in the matter. He cleared the door in time to see a blur of white round a corner in the corner of his eye, and gave chase. A few hallways later, he slumped out of breath beside her on a bench.

"That didn't go like it does in the magazines."

He placed a hand comfortingly on her back. "In theatre, a bad final rehearsal means the real thing will be perfect."

She leaned her weight against him, toying with the pocket on her white jeans. "Life t'is but a play. You think it'll be perfect?"

"You know I do," He whispered in her ear, making her giggle from the tickling. "I told you I didn't want to do the rehearsal."

"But everyone needs to know where to stand."

"Training for standing. We can live without it." He dropped his hand to her waist and squeezed, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. "Since practice let out early, you think you can let me off the leash for an hour?"

"Some other girl's wedding rehearsal you need to attend?" she teased.

"Nah, no one would have me. I promised Kadowaki I'd help her talk to Squall some."

Selphie pouted a lip in sympathy. "Is he doing any better?"

"Honestly, I can't tell under the drugs. I keep trying to convince her to lessen the sedatives, but after the," he flicked his fingers in a quotation gesture, "'_attempted Presidential assassination_', too many officials are demanding we keep him locked up, chained down, and high as a cloud."

She dug her head into his shoulder, acting guilty. "Squall's going nutso, war's breaking out in Galbadia, and I'm having a stupid wedding rehearsal."

He shrugged, and hissed at the twinge of torn muscles. "People need a little cheer on occasion, especially when the sky's falling down. Didja see how proud Cid was, before you tore his elbow off?"

She sniggered. "Or how vain Quistis was in her new bridesmaid dress. I told her it wasn't a dress rehearsal, but she just had to wear it."

"Well, it is a nice dress, and it's a shame for something like that to be made for only one use."

The pinch burned against recently healed skin, and he jerked upright.

"Uh-uh. I told you, no eyeing other girls or I hurt you. That was the deal."

He rubbed his side glumly. "Wasn't eyeing, was commenting on your taste in fabrics."

"Suuuure." She smirked. "Don't worry, I'll get you housebroken soon enough. You just need a little…" she tapped his thigh, near the groin, "…attitude adjustment."

_This new side of Selphie is a little freaky._ "I told you no."

"I'm not talking about that. What about a collar?"

"Collar?" He yelped.

"Yeah, like the electric ones that zap dogs when they bark."

"It's supposed to be a gold ring, Selphie, or at least a ball and chain. No collars."

"So, yes to the ball and chain?"

"NO."

She slapped his shoulder lightly. It stung against the bruises. "I'm just teasing you, silly. Now go be a gentleman and keep our poor Commander company for awhile. I'm going to go call the caterer."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's 'Yes Future Misses Kinneas SIR!'"

* * *

"How is he?" 

Kadowaki didn't turn around. The readout tablet she held was apparently more important than him. "He pulled at the restraints all morning. I held off on sedating him any more, and he's calmed down a little since noon."

Irvine stared through the bulletproof glass of the brig. Squall was a pitiful form, pinned like a butterfly on cardboard. But they'd learned quickly that any relaxing of the security measures led to injury, either Squall's or someone else's.

"Did he say anything else about the drugs?"

The doctor sighed, and punched in a few numbers lethargically. "He refuses to talk to me. I was waiting for you to give me his verdict."

"And if he doesn't speak to me either?"

She shrugged, her expression grim. "Then we decide for him."

_Maybe that would be better. How can we force him to make a decision like this? Ward off the worst effects with experimental drugs that turn him into a permanently dazed zombie and maybe worse, or tough it out?_ "Any news on a cure?"

Kadowaki made as if to speak, but closed her mouth with a sigh and said nothing.

"Doctor?"

She shook her head. "Irvine… there… he should be awake enough to speak with, if you want to go in."

_She's avoiding the question. That's got to mean bad news. Do I want to press her for it now, or hold off until later?_

"It's bad news?"

She pressed her lips together thinly and didn't reply.

"Doctor."

"Go see him."

_Holding off, then._ "Yes ma'am." He pawed the door pad and stepped in, nodding a greeting to the guards. "Ernon, Sorce."

"Hey Kinneas. Want we should watch from outside?"

"If you don't mind."

He ignored their salutes and departure, and scooted the only available chair next to the bed. "Hey there Commander."

Squall cracked an eye to stare blearily at him, and tried to roll over to face the wall. Once he remembered that he couldn't, he settled for a glare and shut his eye firmly.

"Hey now, don't be like that. It's not my fault they've got you trussed up."

Squall didn't respond.

It hurt to see him like this. He was too used to seeing Squall as the right-out-of-the-storybook hero that never failed, or as the stubborn, stoic, and grumpy soldier who reluctantly put up with his companions, or in more recent weeks, as the confused and frustrated childhood friend who needed something to hold onto while his world shook. Seeing him like this, as a fragile bedridden creature, or on the flip side, as a dangerous criminal in custody… it gave him sickening lumps in his chest.

"Selphie says she's gonna blackmail Doc into letting you be best man. I say she's crazy and is gonna find herself on medical leave with a thermometer up her…"

Squall wasn't listening.

"You know the meds Doc and I told you about earlier? You think about them any? 'Cause, you know, if you agreed to take them, we could probably get you out of here, at least some of the… time. Squall?"

…

"You think any about them? Come to a decision?"

…

"Squall…" He wanted to hold his hand, but he'd signed a waiver saying no physical contact, on penalty of visitor rights being revoked. "…You've gotta do something. You can't just lay here until the end of the decade."

"…You should've let me die."

His throat clenched up. He found himself trying to scream through it, but nothing came out.

…

"…Fuck you."

Kadowaki didn't look up when he exited. The guards caught his expression and wisely returned to the brig. He hammered the door closed as soon as they'd cleared it.

"Hand me something expendable."

Kadowaki held out a glass sphere paperweight. He took it around the corner of the hallway and hurled it against the bulkhead wall. It didn't break. He snatched it up and threw it again. It didn't break. He pitched it for the nearest window. It bounced off the double paned plastic with a crack, and rolled towards his feet. He punted it down the hallway. It bounced along into the main hall and splashed into the fountain.

He went back into the brig wing of the infirmary. "Hand me something expendable and _breakable._"

"Give me back my paperweight."

"It's in the fountain."

"Go get it."

"No."

She handed him a jar of cotton wads.

He took it out into the hallway, placed it on the floor, and bore down with his foot. The glass jar crunched in a very attractive manner. He ground it into tiny slivers, which mixed with the cotton. He left it for someone else to clean up and went back inside.

"What's the news on a cure."

"There isn't one, Irvine."

He caught himself before he broke the IV machine, and aimed for the eye chart instead. "Not good enough."

"If there was a possibility, I'd be offering it. There's nothing."

"Surgery. Odine. Something."

"Nothing."

"We can put a man in orbit and we can't fix an amadagla?"

"Amygdala."

"I don't give a flying grat's ass what it's called!"

"I know that."

"There's got to be some far fetched, off the wall _something._ There's always something."

"No there's not."

"You're not trying hard enough!"

Kadowaki stared him down, and for the first time, he noticed how stiff her posture was. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"I asked every neurologist, brain surgeon, mage doctor, chem doctor, and witch doctor, on all continents. There's nothing."

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself into a breathing ritual to calm his nerves. Once he felt he could keep from cussing, he looked up. "There's no one else to go to?"

"I wish there was."

_(Well… there might be…)_

…_What the…_

_(…If you were interested in listening.)_

Irvine carefully slipped into the nearest chair. "Doc, you have anything for hearing voices?"

Kadowaki glanced at him with newfound attention. "Your GF?"

He shook his head. "Don't have him in. Haven't since…"

_(Since you left Timber. Thankfully I caught up to you. Just in time, too, from the sound of it.)_

_Ifrit?_

_(Yes.)_

_I do NOT have you junctioned._

Kadowaki was taking his blood pressure.

_(Yes, I'm aware of that.)_

_Where are you?_

_(Next to your left foot.)_

He glanced down, past the hand Kadowaki was using to feel his forehead.

Grr-face grinned toothily at him. The tiara and diamond rings the moomba was wearing glittered under the harsh medical lighting.

_(Hello Irvine. Interested in trying some alternative medicine?)

* * *

_

_Author's Note – a lattice is that crisscross wall thing that you grow vine-like plants on, I think. Very popular in wedding decorations._


	28. Ch 28 Of the color Mauve

Pleasantly Depressed, Ch 28 – "Of The Color Mauve"

By Skandranon

Summary – Alright, pay attention folks. This entire chapter is nothing but dialogue, so it'll probably be a little confusing. Each character is defined by a different style of speaking. I tried to make it clear who was who with frequent name drops.

* * *

_(Hold still, this is going to hurt.)_

_I know that, Ifrit. Just get it d-_YGGHJFRICKinFSKHOLYMOTHEROFJJJDDGGSNNGRRKKTTOHYNEFUCKFUCKMOTHERFSKERHOLYSHTSTOPSTOPSTOP-oh.

(Yeah, they always say that.)

They who? Okay, it's very black in here.

(What color did you expect the inside of your head to be?)

Honestly? Mauve.

(Concentrate Irvine. The next part's going to be a little tricky.)

The last part wasn't?

(No, that was just shoving your head through a brick wall. The next part's surgery.)

Look, just tell me what to do.

(You're going to be the connection. I provide the energy, but you have to keep us in contact. You'll need to concentrate. And I think it's going to hurt.)

You think?

(That or make you go crazy. Sorry, it's been a while since I last did this. Listen. Any time now, the drugs are going to kick in strong enough for Squall to hit REM state. When that happens, I'll give you the signal. You'll have to reach out-)

Reach out how?

(It'll come naturally. You'll have to reach out to Shiva, and latch on to her.)

Will that come natural too?

(Less so, but she can help you with it. Assuming his brain's not screwed up enough to block her.)

Assuming. Great.

(Would you rather we stop now?)

No. Then what?

(Then, you'll reel the connection in-)

How?

(Naturally. Just imagine pulling in a rope. You'll pull it in close enough for me to fortify it, and then we'll have ourselves a nice little ether bridge.)

Ether whatsit?

(I'm speaking plain Languic here, Irvine. Keep up.)

Sorry. Then what?

(We'll get to it when we get to it. He's reaching REM state. Go.)

Okay.

…

Um. Ifrit? There's nothing there.

…

Ifrit?

_(…eeene?...)_

Hello…

_(…Irrrrvine?...)_

Creepy voice!

_(…Irrrrvinnne? What are you doooing?...)_

…Shiva?

_(…Yeessss…)_

Oh, okay. Um, Ifrit says I have to latch on to you.

_(…Gooood…)_

…Uhm, I need a little help.

_(…Fffollow my voicccce…)_

Following. Ah, okay, now it's mauve. SHTFRICKINFSKGHOLYSWEETHYNEHELPSOMEBODY-oh.

_(Heh. I certainly am glad to see you, cowboy.)_

Squall?

_(No, I'm afraid he's further down. This is still Shiva.)_

You sound different.

_(Well of course I do silly. We're face to face now, instead of yelling across a ravine. Now. What on earth are you doing here?)_

Trying to save Squall, obviously. Ifrit says we can make a bridge.

_(…Ifrit? Oh my… yes, that could work. Okay, are you connected to him?)_

I junctioned him?

_(Yes, that's fine. Draw him closer to us.)_

He said I was supposed to draw you closer to him.

_(He would, wouldn't he. Stubborn imp. If you want to help Squall, you'll need to be closer than your own head. We'll have to work from in here.)_

…Here is Squall's head, isn't it?

_(The boy learns.)_

Why does he get to be mauve and I don't?

_(Irvine, pay attention. Draw Ifrit in.)_

Right, right. Hey, Ifrit!

(RRROOOAGHRR!)

Yipe!

(That HURT, Irvine.)

Heh, sorry.

_(Wimp.)_

(…Shiva.)

_(Ifrit.)_

(It's… good to see you.)

_(…And you… I…)_

Guys?

_(…I believe you're here to help Squall, aren't you? I hope you have a better plan than the one I think you're thinking of.)_

(It should work, shouldn't it? You couldn't ask for better candidates.)

_(Squall is wounded, and neither of them have any experience with this sort of-)_

(But they're both strong, and stubborn. And you can't deny the emotional attachment.)

Guys. It's my decision, and it's made. Enough chatter, let's do this already.

(See? Strong and stubborn.)

_(Tch, fine. Alright, this way.)_

…Oh, so it's only mauve on the outside?

(Enough with the mauve. Irvine, you'll be stepping into Squall's dreams. Whatever you see, you must remember that it's not real. You need to convince him to follow you out, so we can fortify your connection with him.)

"HEERRYAAAAG!"

CHIMERA!

"Grrvi?"

What tha… how'd you get in here, little bugger?

;D

(It's because I was junctioned to him, and his affection for Squall. He's offered to help.)

Can he? Help? He's just a kitten.

v.v

(He can guide. Most importantly, he seems to have an innate knack for tracking Squall, which we need right now. Alright then. Grrface?)

"Yshysh."

(Lead Irvine to Squall.)

o.o?

(Squall. Go to Squ-)

Take me to Laguna, little bit.

"RAGOOOONA!"

Not so loud!

XP

Same to you, furball.

n.n

So, I suppose you can speak, can you?

"Gwoonjiyeniiiewrannaktu."

Or you just think you can.

…_s…at?_

"RAGOOOOONA!"

…_ace!_

;P

…_Ick, get off. No licking._

Good job little bit, you found him.

_Irvine?_

What. Are you wearing.

_What? I always wear this._

Yeah, when you were a kid and could get away with yellow and stripes. For the love of Major Hutch, man.

_You're one to talk. Feathers? Body paint?_

Hey, I pull them off, don't I?

_Is that glitter lipgloss?_

…Maybe. Anyway. Squall, you're dreaming.

_Duh._

…Right. I guess you knew that.

_Come sit down._

This is the palace garden in Esthar, isn't it? I don't remember it having a bench.

_I added it in. The tree was too scratchy to sit against._

"Ragoona! Drrjarufme?"

_Yes, I love you. Now go bother the fish._

"Fshfsh!"

Nice setup you got here.

_Yeah, it's peaceful. I added more stars, and some dim lights in the pool. See them?_

Yeah, I see. Hey, Squall...

_Can I ask you a question?_

…Sure.

_Do you love me?_

…Wow. Came right out and said that, did you?

_It seems easier to think about it here. I know I love you. I think. I mean, I'm pretty sure… things have been confusing lately. I thought I wanted to kill my father, but…I think I only wanted to knock him around a little. Then things got so crazy and loud…_

You've got this weird brain damage thing going. Ifrit thinks we could do something about it, but you have to follow me out of here.

…_And if it can't be fixed? What's going to happen to me?_

I… don't really know.

…_Do you think it's peaceful here?_

…Yeah, I suppose… you've got a nice blue theme going here, with the sky and the lights. Weren't the flowers in the real pond red?

_They didn't look right, so I switched them with white ones._

Well, you do get a better contrast with the lilypads. Yeah, it's a nice, peaceful place allright. Seems a little dull though.

_Sometimes I like dull. Do you?_

I suppose, after a long day's work. It's nice to kick back and watch the view every now and then.

_Gets kind of lonely, though._

Yeah, it does.

_Doesn't have to be._

…Squall? What are you doing with your hand?

_Do you want me to?_

What… what about Selphie.

_Fuck her._

That's the point. I do fuck her. Regularly, in fact. Let go of my belt.

_What if I say no?_

I punch you. Probably.

_You don't want her._

Stay out of my head! I want her more than you.

…_Asshole._

…I… I didn't mean it like that.

_Yes you did._

I didn't. I…Hyne, Squall, I don't know what I mean anymore.

_Looks like you answered my question._

Stop it. Look, I…we can't. Be. I'm taken. I'm getting married!

_Why?_

It's what I'm supposed to do!... shit.

_You meant that one._

…Looks like I did. Hyne. Didn't realize I thought that way.

_You're only with her still because you feel obligated._

…That's a good reason, isn't it? Is it? People get married for all kind of reasons…

_Do you feel obligated to me?_

No! No I…yes. Maybe. A little. Because you're sick. But if you weren't, I'd still-

_Still what?_

…Um.

_Still what?_

Let go of my shirt.

_Do you want me to?_

…Yes.

_Do you really._

…No.

_Do you want me to do this?_

…I…yes.

_This?_

…Squall…

"GRRWARRWH!"

…I'm going to kill that fucking moomba.

_Kiss first, kill later._

"Knaadrudriis! KRCHK!"

Fucker! Little bastard bit me! On the EAR!

_Grrface! Bad moomba._

"Nyenye! Grrvi knaastii!"

_What do you mean he can't stay?_

Wait. I'm Grrvi?

"Gwangitshtruuk!"

_Stuck? Stuck in what?_

Shit. Aw shit. I almost… Squall, you gotta follow me out of here.

_To where?_

It doesn't matter. Look. Do you trust me?

_I… yes._

…Wow. Really?

_I guess so._

That's… kinda wow. Okay. Off we go. Shit.

_What?_

I lost the entrance. Furball!

XP

Yeah yeah. Get us out of here.

vv;

Pretty please?

….;)

Follow the bouncing kitten. Ah, here we go.

…_I don't like it here._

It's not too far.

_I want to go back._

I'm right here. Just hold onto me.

_Why's it so dark?_

What color did you expect it to be?

…_Honestly? Mauve._

_(Squall? There you are honey.)_

_Shiva!_

_(Been worried about you, sweetie.)_

_I can tell. You're back to the 'sweetie honey' routine._

_(What, I'm not allowed to dote?) _

Dote all you like, I missed it.

_(Then I shall dote to my heart's content, lovely.)_

Gah! Could you two get any more diabetic?

:P

See? You're even making the moomba sick!

(I'm afraid we don't have time for small talk.)

_...! Who's that!_

_(Relax honey, that's Ifrit.)_

_THAT's Ifrit?_

(You were expecting fur and horns, I imagine.)

_Well… yeah._

I had the same reaction first time I junctioned him.

XD

The kitten apparently finds this funny.

(Like I said, no time for small talk. Now let me explain things to get us all on the same page. Squall has suffered an unusual form of brain damage, or more accurately, mental shutdown, caused by his excessive and long term junctioning of Shiva.)

Thought you said we were in a hurry.

(Hush. This mental shutdown is not actual damage to the brain, but merely miscommunication between the different areas, due to long term magic interference and the delegation of some mental actions to his symbiotic host.)

Languic, please.

(Magic made him do the wacky.)

Got it.

(And magic can undo it, but this sort of jumpstart needs a large battery. And it's going to hurt.)

Squall, when he says that, believe me, he means it.

(Hush. Now, Irvine's the battery, and Shiva and I will act as th-)

_What!_

Woah woah, what was that about a battery?

_(You should have told him beforehand.)_

(He said he was willing to do whatever was necessary. I assume he included this in that statement.)

I meant what I said. I just don't get how I'm a pink drummer.

(You have lifeforce, don't you?)

_NO!_

What, this would… kill me?

_NO, DAMMIT!_

SHUT UP! Ifrit. Would this kill me?

(…Probably not.)

Probably. Great.

(If everything goes right, it shouldn't leave any lasting effects, and you should fully recover within a few months.)

_Months!_

I said shut up!

_Fuck you! You're not doing this!_

Yes I bloody well am!

_I won't have anyone sacrificing for me!_

Oh, I'm anyone, am I!

_(Enough, both of you! Ifrit!)_

(Don't look at me, they're always like this.)

Ifrit! What do I have to do.

_I won't let you!_

It's not your decision to make.

_I don't want to lose you!_

Ditto, asshole!

…_I…Irvine…_

Squall. Let me do this.

_What…what about Selphie._

What about her?

_If you die…you're so selfish._

I'M selfish!

_Yes you're selfish! You're not supposed to die for me! You're supposed to go get married to Selphie!_

Fuck Selphie!

…_Really?_

…shit.

_Really?_

…I guess so.

_Do you love me?_

(I think we should focus o-)

_SHUT UP!_

XO

_(Hush, Ifrit, I want to hear this._)

Terrific, I've got an audience.

_(You better believe it. Answer the question, Irvine.)_

Not now. Look, what do I have to-

**XO**

_Answer me, Irvine._

I can't answer when put on the spot like this! I can't even think straight.

_(Thinking "straight" wouldn't be your best skill anyway, now would it?)_

…Low, Shiva.

_Irvine._

Yeah, Squall.

_Do you?_

…Maybe.

_Maybe?_

Maybe a little.

_A little?_

Some, yeah.

_Some?_

Yeah, some.

_Yeah?_

Yeah, pretty much.

_Pretty much?_

Squall?

_Yeah?_

Do you?

…_Yes._

…Ditto.

_(Finally! You two have been giving me such a headache.)_

(Can we get started now?)

Squall?

…_It's your decision._

What do I do?

(Hold still.)

I can do th-FSKINSHTGRRAKKTSHSHTNNGHGGSNNGRRKKTTOHYNEFUKHOLYMOTHEROFHYNEMAKETISTP-

* * *

Author's Notes - All moombas can speak in emoticons. Didn't you know that? 


	29. Ch 29 Of Retcons

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 29 "Of Retcons"

* * *

_Damn my head hurts._

_That's what you get for stealing other people's alcohol._

_Somehow I don't think this is just a hangover._

…_Oh dear. Are the aches starting up again?_

_Looks like._

_

* * *

Without… you…

* * *

_

_Enough daydreaming. Back to work._

"We were on elemental weather effects?"

A girl in the fourth row raised her hand. "No, Instructor Kinneas, we were on elemental monsters."

"Right. If you could turn to page 14, and study the graph there, you'll see it's a world map marked in different colors for the different elemental regions. Though monsters do and will roam, these are the types of elements you will most likely find in those areas. Anyone notice anything odd about the colors for Balamb? Yes, Miss Indeo."

"The red dot is the fire caves?"

"Correct. Balamb is almost completely devoted to ice and bug monsters, and yet in this one singular spot, is a wealth of high level fire creatures. Can anyone tell me why? Yes, Miss Naster."

"It's a geothermal cave?"

"But why is it a geothermal cave?"

"Um… a crack in the planet's crust let magma rise up?"

"Balamb is near the center of a geological plate, not a likely place for cracks in the crust. Don't think science. We're looking at magics, think magic. The cave is rife with fire creatures, who might be attracted by the heat, true. But so many high level monsters in such a small cave system? Yes, Miss Lonfict."

"…The monsters made the caves?"

"Very good. The monsters, or more importantly, a certain high level monster, made the caves. You'd be surprised at just how often magic can have an affect on its surroundings, and not the other way around."

* * *

_The ground thaws…

* * *

_

He was supposed to be concentrating on the budget reviews on his desk, but the world was so gray.

_Empty._

The word fit so well. Without Shiva… _Why did Cid have to take her, dammit? I can't… I can't function without her! How am I supposed to do any work when I've got an empty space in my head where there's supposed to be a comforting voice?_

But life was work, and work was budget reviews that needed to be initialed. He snatched his hand away from the pill drawer before he could convince himself to take more painkillers, and reached for a pen instead.

* * *

_The rain falls…

* * *

_

The door groaned, then shrieked, then gave up together and collapse into a submissive crumbling heap.

Selphie stepped over it, looking ready to kill, nunchucks in hand. She stopped, and blinked, and took in the scene with an expression that any second now was going to change into-

She smiled sweetly and giggled. "What happened, did Irvine trip? The klutz."

* * *

_The grass grows…

* * *

_

"Man, I wish I had a camera."

He tensed in Irvine's grip, and wrenched away to face Quistis with a scowl.

The cowboy sighed. "What do you want, Quis?"

She sniffed delicately. "Told you not to give me nicknames. Squall, sorry to interrupt, but Irvine here's got a mission. If you could spare him, Cid would like to go over a few details with him before it's the Kramers' bedtime."

"Whatever." He was stalking out before Irvine could grab an arm to make him stop, and sidestepped around the instructor with harsh steps. _Damn Kinneas. Damn him and his fucking opinions. Now maybe he'll leave me alone._

He could feel the instructor watching his back as he moved away. "My, what's got into him?"

"A little too much NSAID," came the response from inside the room.

He paused at the end of the hall, just out of view. He didn't know why, until he waited for it to happen and it didn't.

Irvine didn't come after him.

_Well, thank Hyne. Now I can get back to my life._

_

* * *

Without you…

* * *

_

Stretching his shoulders to work out the tension, Squall chucked his empty cup in the hotel room trashcan as he entered, and collapsed onto the bed as bonelessly as possible.

"Yep!" the cowboy called from the bathroom. "I did forget to turn off the faucet." A rusty squeak stopped the dripping sound, and he was poking his head out of the door, giving Squall a questioning look. "Do you want the shower first, or shall I?"

"Whatever." He was a little grimy from sitting in a clocktower for hours, but it was too comfortable where he was.

A grin was his answer, and the head disappeared. He stared at the ceiling as the rush of water echoed through the wall. _I feel kind of useless on this mission._

_It's standard practice for a sniper to take a partner with them._

_But me? When's the last time my role in a job was 'partner'?_

_That'd be arrogance coming from anyone else._

The bathroom door opened, and Irvine casually walked naked across the room. "Forgot the towel." He snagged one from his duffel and returned to his shower.

* * *

_The seeds root…

* * *

_

The taxi driver took one look at them and shook his head. "No way!"

"Oh come on!" He shifted his weight to better support Squall's limp form. "I'll pay an extra 2k."

"That wouldn't begin to cover the cleaning cost for what all that blood's going to do to my backseat!"

"It's mostly dried." Squall slipped a little, and Irvine had to bend a protesting knee to get a decent grip on him. "Look. An extra 6k, alright? Just get us to the train station, and let us off in a quiet part of it."

"You want quiet, it'll cost you 8k."

"Alright already. Just, could you get the door for me?"

Acting as if all of this was a huge insult to him, the driver huffed his way out of his seat and held the door so Irvine could lay his burden across the seats. "He ain't gonna die, is he? I don't want to get roped into no trial."

Irvine took a step towards the man and loomed over him. "If he dies in your cab, a trial won't be your main worry. So get us there quickly."

* * *

_The flowers bloom...

* * *

_

"Irvy Irvy Irvy! Catch!"

He dutifully caught as was his obligation, and tried to ignore the angry complaints of his back at the action.

His armful of girlfriend kissed his fiercely, then pulled back with a grin. "You okay?"

"Getting better." He pecked her cheek, and received his usual blushing response. "You behave while I was gone?"

"The better question is, did you behave?"

"Always, doll."

"Oh really." She stared him down, sweetly but firm. "No pretty Deling girls?"

"No pretty Deling girls. On my honor."

"Good!" She bit his nose, and wriggled for him to let her down, which he did. "You going to have dinner with me?"

And here was the dilemma. He wanted to, of course, but oddly he found himself grateful for the reason he couldn't. "Sorry, pixiestar, something's come up."

She tapped a foot in annoyance. "Something better than me?"

"Not better, just… you know Squall woke up?"

The gasp indicated that no, she didn't know. "He did! Oh that's wonderful. I was so worried. Is he going to be okay?"

Irvine nodded, and slipped an arm around her waist. "Yeah, he'll be fine. But, um… the Doc wanted me to watch out for him for awhile. You know, to make sure he doesn't have a relapse of whatever it was."

She pouted up at him, but it was mostly faked. "I see. So I'm getting stood up for Squall."

"Don't be like that, honeyrabbit."

She sighed, and there was a hint of disappointment under the fake anger. "It's okay. This is important. But you owe me some really good makeup sex next time."

"And an apology on bended knee, it's yours."

She beamed, a real smile, and tickled him. He jerked with a "Gah!" and tried to fight the little demon off, but now she was really trying, and he found himself doubled over begging her to stop through the laughter.

* * *

_The children play…

* * *

_

"I love it up here. It's so peaceful. Oh look, there goes one!" Selphie leapt to the railing and leaned over to point at the shooting star as it sailed down towards the horizon.

"Selphie! Get down from there!" He tugged her back and into his arms, trying not to shiver.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, lovely, it's just a little dangerous is all."

She stuck a tongue out at him.

"You gonna use that?"

A crafty grin lit her face. "Not here. Back to my room."

* * *

_The stars gleam…

* * *

_

He was dreaming. In his dream, he saw himself lying on a bed in a dark room. There were little cold eyes in the darkness gleaming like stars. Tiny creatures beeped to themselves, and clear snakes tried to pour venom into his veins.

But at least he wasn't alone in the dark. He could feel someone nearby, not speaking, not touching him, but there anyway. A steady presence in the emptiness. It didn't fill the hole in him that ached and cried, but it was a comforting pressure in a place he didn't even know could hold anything.

He watched the figure sigh, and nod into sleep, and he followed after him.

* * *

_The poets dream…

* * *

_

He was flying through the air, and then he was pinned down. The debris pelted his face and his ears rang from the explosion. The solid weight against his chest was Irvine. It looked like he was unconscious and bleeding from the head. And he was heavy.

_Squall! Look ou-_

The gun barrel clicked against his neck as the attacker peered down smugly. "Well look what we got here."

A whiff of smoke caught his nose, and he risked a glance to the left. Yep, the jeep was burning spare parts.

_Let's hope he really was kidding about the nitro glycerin.  
_

_

* * *

The eagles fly…

* * *

_

The door was solid metal on the inside, without doorknob or keyhole. The architects who had built this bunker once upon a decade or two ago had never thought that their broom closet might one day be used as an impromptu cell for one ever-resourceful cowboy.

And while he was on the subject, what was a cowboy, anyway? What was a cow? Some sort of insult? Maybe a synonym for "country" or "farm". Those dang Balambians better not have been calling him a redneck all this time.

The hinges were on the outside, but there was enough space between the door and wall that he could see them through the seam. There were lights on outside in the hall.

Maybe if he could get at them with the untwisted paperclip… but no, he couldn't get enough purchase.

Sitting down for a breather, he took stock of his inventory. Pocketknife, paperclip, shelves, clothing, handcuffs, remainder of rope…

…Wait…

He got up and checked the seam again. Yeah, it might fit. He picked them up and checked. It was a tight squeeze, but… ah, the hinge on the cuffs caught against the door. That wouldn't work.

But if he could pull the door open even a millimeter…

He sat back down and pulled the frayed rope into his hand, picking apart the individual threads and weaving them into small plaits, which he then wove into a long, thin ribbon. It took a good handful of hours to make any progress, but he didn't dare rush. The knots had to be good ones.

Once he was satisfied, he slipped his ribbon through the seam and used the paperclip to work it around the outside of the hinges, until he had one long cord going up the outside length of the door. Giving a mental blessing to the overcautious idiot who had used so much rope to secure him, he slid the ribbon to the midway point on the door, coming through the gaps on the top and bottom of the door, and tied the ends together.

He kicked the shelf until a piece broke off. He slipped it against the inside of the knot, and started turning it. The rope wound around it like a corkscrew.

Once it started getting tension, he braced each foot on one side of the doorframe, and pulled on the board. Good, good, it was holding his weight. He shifted his feet a little higher up the wall, and resumed twisting the board.

The thousand tiny knots in the rope gave it strength, and the rope wrapped around the board gave the board strength. As it turned, it pulled the rope tighter and closer together, and tighter, and closer…

The door gave a groan on its hinges.

He kept turning, and shifted his feet up until he was hanging off the wall.

The door gave a little, and then the rope snapped.

"Ow! Charred burner!"

He picked himself back up and rubbed his back, but soon forgot about it in light of more interesting things. He checked the seam. Yes, it has shifted just enough.

The handcuff slipped through. He looped it around top hinge and snapped it shut, clicking it to its tightest circle possible.

He wound the remainder of the rope around the other cuff, tying the board to it. He pulled against it to walk up the wall.

It took three tries and he sprained his wrist, but he got the door open.

_And another point goes to Irvine! Now… _

_…Where has Squall run off to?_

_

* * *

Without you…

* * *

_

He shielded his eyes against the sun, since his hat apparently wasn't enough out here, to gaze over the scenery. "We should take the valley pass. We can stay close to water."

Squall snorted, and continued heading uphill. "No. We have a better vantage point from high terrain."

"Vantage point? Vantage against what? What exactly do we have to defend against, the rocks?"

Squall ignored him and kept climbing.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Come on, Kinneas."

"Don't you pull that rank bull on me! Hey!"

"…"

Growling, he sat down on the closest boulder and wiped his brow.

"Irvine. Move it."

"Just a quick break, Squall." He fished out his stolen pack of cigarettes and the gang leader's lighter.

"Those things will kill you."

"If the sun doesn't."

Squall stared at him for a long moment, then came over and nudged his shoulder. Irvine shifted to give him room to sit, and the gunblader stole one of his cigarettes.

"Hey! I've only got a few."

"Good. You should quit," Squall muttered around the cancer stick, and leaned closer so Irvine could light it.

* * *

_The earth turns…

* * *

_

"Ouch. Ow. Ow. Dammit. Dammit woman, I'm not a pincushion!"

The Palace nurse ignored him and popped in more stitches, continuing up his side until she reached the end of the gash. "Really, you should have better treated these injuries. It's a miracle you're not a walking infection. Stop squirming, you've got three more lashes on your backside. I'm going to need the antiseptic again, and don't you flinch this time. Big baby."

Squall growled low in his throat and gesture over to his companion. "Are all nurses like this, or is it just me?"

"It's just you," Irvine replied absently, flicking through a newspaper. Except for a few bandages, he was bare naked under the blankets, laying on his belly and leaning over the edge of the medical bed to better catch the lamplight. "Listen to this. Bombings in Timber, possibly terrorist related. Galbadian occupation momentarily set back."

"Thank Hyne. Ow. Bloody Galbies. Ow."

Irvine raised the paper and shook it at the gunblader. "Don't make me hit you."

Squall's hands spasmed against the bed railing, to keep him from flinching. "Right, I forgot. You like to pretend you're a Galbie patriot."

"Pretend! I'm gonna hit you. Get over here, I'm gonna wallop you." He swung the paper in Squall's direction, but missed by ten feet.

"Busy, being tortured. Ow. I'll talk, I'll talk."

"Funny." The nurse picked up the sealant paste for another sweep along the injury. "Just for that, you're getting the big needle."

Irvine grinned lopsidedly. "Heh, 'bout time someone stuck it in Squall, he's been aching for it since puberty."

"Kill you, brutal ravaging. So help me, kill you."

"Mm, ravaging."

"Pervert."

"Don't worry," interrupted the nurse. "He's got worse sunburn than you, so he's going to need the cream for it. It hurts like the dickens."

"Worse than the big needle?"

"Worse than the big needle."

Squall smirked at Irvine, who glumly went back to his newspaper.

* * *

_The sun burns…

* * *

_

The garden was perfectly serene. No crowds, no bright lights, no jubilant music, no chatty ladies, no expectations, no one to watch if he chose to have a screaming fit until his lungs wore out.

He hated the man, and resented him, and refused to believe he was related to him, and so badly wanted his approval, and wanted to knock the corny grin right off his face.

Squall let his knees buckle and collapsed belly first onto the cool grass. He tucked his cheek into a patch of clover and let the leaves tickle at his nose.

He hated the damned cowboy too. Wouldn't bloody leave him alone. Kept running off all the time. Kept hassling him and pushing him. Kept chatting up those damned women.

He ran a hand through the thin leaves, and dug his fingernails into the fluffy dirt beneath them. He smugly didn't care if he got grass stains on his borrowed uniform. Laying stomach down in a snug little garden, he felt he could walk right back into that ballroom stained green from collar to boot, and not give a damn.

The idea of going back into the ballroom, though, made him jerk with a shudder.

Squall stretched his shoulders and listened to them crack, then decided to stretch out his feet too, and his legs. Then he twisted over onto his back and wriggled until he was sure every bone in his body had given him a satisfying pop.

He probably was truly green collar to boot, now. He sat up to check. Nope, still Balamb black and blue. Extra points go to the fabric department back home.

There went another jerking shudder. Must've been something he'd thought.

Shaking his head until the feeling ran away, he wriggled his way closer to the pond, just because he knew how silly the motion looked, and no one was here to see it. It was a fake pond, but nicely done, with mosaic tiles on the bottom, red lilies on the top, and striped koi in the middle.

He stuck a finger in it and watched the ripples dance.

_Finally, some peace. I hate crowds. Give me a quiet, shady corner over a rowdy party anyday._

A blotchy red fish swam up to inspect the new intrusion into its world.

_Don't see what parties accomplish anyway. You put a bunch of people in a room, serve them drinks, and then they dance._

A faint breeze dropped down the walls and flitted across the grass and water.

_And the girls won't shut up about how nice the dresses look._

The moon passed through a break in the clouds and brightened things up for a moment in silver glow, then ducked back behind cover.

_…_

A ladybug decided his left shoe made a good lookout post.

_…Shiva?_

The fish decided it was bored of this strange new thing, and went to hide under a lily.

It finally occurred to Squall that he was very much alone.

* * *

_But I'd die…

* * *

_

Irvine flopped to the floor and cupped his cheek, jaw open to ease the ache.

"Ow. Dammit, what'd you hit me for?"

"Felt like it." Squall stood up, and hauled him to his feet. Then he punched Irvine in the stomach.

Irvine elbowed him in the chin, and the fighting resumed, and continued all the way back to Balamb.

* * *

_Without you…

* * *

_

It was hard to walk, what with the ball of fluff shimmying in and out of Squall's clothing, making him have to stop and fish it out again.

He might be annoyed, if the fishing part didn't reveal and awful lot of skin.

And he really wasn't thinking that.

Squall seemed to be taking to the little creature, though. Annoyances were usually scowled at and shoved off on someone else, but since they'd left the Headmaster's office, the brunet had yet to pass the fuzzball over to Irvine.

They were both too distracted to navigate, and found themselves inexplicably in the library. Then they had to turn around and head back up to the dorms.

Halfway there Squall stopped to take off his shirt so the little monster couldn't go down it again, and they ended up in the cafeteria.

Squall looked around the empty tables, then peered up at Irvine blankly. Irvine gave a sheepish grin and led them back up towards the dorms, grateful that Squall wasn't getting surly.

Squall certainly had taut abs, though.

And he really wasn't thinking that.

…Okay, yes, he was thinking that. He'd made out with the guy, for Hyne's sake, he couldn't keep denying that the guy was unreasonably attractive.

And shirtless.

And had really taut abs.

"Why are we in the quad?"

"Eh?"

"Why are we in the quad."

Irvine glanced up to Squall's face, then around him. "Oh, so we are."

"You're lost."

"How could I be lost. The place is effin' color coded."

"Then why are we in the wrong place?"

"I… wanted some fresh air before we head back in."

Squall could've called him on that, but seemed too bored to care, and just stood there, struggling with a wriggling ball of orange, waiting for the cowboy to finish with the air and guide him back to the dorms.

He slipped off to the side, then paused as the gunblader followed him. "I'm going to take a quick smoke, if it's alright."

Squall blinked at him.

"So you stay over there."

Blink.

"Where the smoke won't affect the moomba."

Squall wandered over to another bench and sat down.

Shirtless.

They'd never get to the dorms at this rate.

* * *

_The breeze warms…

* * *

_

_I can't stand when she smiles like that._

Squall was in the cafeteria for his daily "Let's pretend our Commander is perfectly fine" session, sitting at one of the larger tables, surrounded by his friends. The only thing noticeably out of the ordinary was the two armed guards standing just behind each of his shoulders, but he could pretend they didn't exist.

Could, but didn't care to. Let the others fake smiles and laugh canned laughter at canned jokes. Let Selphie, seated on his right, show too many teeth with her grins and chew her lip when others weren't looking. God, he hated that smile of hers. He hated how everyone put up painted backgrounds to hide the bitterness of truth. Hiding in mental cubicles, hoping the world would go away. They couldn't see anything through those walls they were building. He could see them, but they looked right through him. In a room of people, in a building with a population in the hundreds, he was completely alone.

_Bull._

_I'm trying to brood, Shiva, do you mind?_

_Yes._

_Well, I don't want you to._

_And that'd be just peachy if I were a willing and obedient slave, oh mighty war hero, but guess what?_

_You haven't obeyed any order I've ever given you._

_You got it._

_Why couldn't I have picked Quetzalcoatl? Zell says the bird never talks to him._

_That, my dear, is because "the bird" is dumb as sticks. And flighty as his owner's hair._

_

* * *

The girl smiles…

* * *

_

"Okay people, we're pulling a combo poppin' imp and… dammit, sorry guys, wrong codes. Combo… combo rock skipper and… combo… little help here, what's rolling logs?"

"Armor fish, sir."

"Armor fish. Stupid name. Dean, you're on point. Kirsten, Segal, left flank, along the gutters. Lerrenger, Wena, Hott, right flank, draw their fire. Maxin, Derring, Trubechen, push forward, take the tower. Tess, guess who gets to be my spot buddy?"

"Hyne shrink the balls of the man who put the sniper in charge."

"You know you love it, and I'm telling Trepe you said that about her. Let's move it."

The SeeDs filed out of the bombed-out flowershop, some taking the shortcut through the gaping holes in the wall. It was a bright and cheery day with white puffy clouds floating overhead, perfect weather for a picnic if you could find a spot for a picnic blanket that wasn't already covered in rubble. That wasn't such a big deal, anyways. For a picnic you needed food.

Two blocks down, the enemy had settled itself into a fire station, boarding up windows, lining up upended cars for barricades, all the usual stuff. A nasty addition was a piecemeal machine gun nest on the roof. The real kicker was, it was Irvine's machine gun. Bastards.

"By the numbers, people," he muttered into his collar comm, and hauled himself up the steps to the second floor, where Lancelot the Second was set out and ready to take vengeance for The Colonel.

The comm crackled in response. "You know your leader is new to commanding and using cliché movie phrases incorrectly to cover the fact, if…"

"Twist it sideways and lock it, Dean, or I'll lock it for you."

"Real scared. Shaking in my steel toes. If I find beer, you ain't gettin' any."

Irvine shrugged at Tess, who was smirking. "If he weren't a Galbie, I'd shoot him."

"And if he weren't a Delinger, you might like him, right?"

"Nah, he's an idiot. Keep a watch."

Out the window and below, he could see his troop moving along the street, taking cover where they could find it. Until they got into place, he and Tess were their eyes.

"Pass the scopes."

They hit him in the shoulder. "Ow. Dick." They were standard issue SeeD binoculars, once painted blue, now a gritty green black and scuffed and scratched into third place in the world's ugliest appliance competition. But the lenses were crystal clean and he could see the neck hairs on the rebels, who were playing cards.

"Heads up, three sentries, just inside on the right in the hanger, armed with semis and a…. the… bastard's got my deck. Didn't you people salvage _anything_ in our last retreat?"

A crackle from his neck. "The bedmat you slept on last night, your regality."

"Lies, I don't sleep. Trim up your line, Wena's straggling. Hold up, hold up, something's going on." The sentries in the hanger had gone tense, ignoring their game and talking quickly. They seemed confused, but mostly surprised and stressed. "Don't move 'til I signal."

"Ah come on, coach, they're sitting pretty for the taking. Not even watching the road."

Now they were, two of them at least, the other talking to them fiercely. Then they were turned back towards each other, even though Irvine had been sure they would've seen Wena. All at once, they leaned back into their chairs and continued the game with forced smiles.

"I dunno, something's weird here. Tess?"

"There's only three of them, even if they do spook."

"Team, keep moving in, but careful-like. Don't want them startling and calling alarm."

The one on the right picked up his radio, flipped channels, and said something into it. On the roof, the half-napping gunner jerked awake, snagged his backup radio, and said something back. He went all tense, and peered down at the street. The SeeDs were on the other side of the building, out of his view, and almost on top of the hanger. He spoke again, and inside the hanger, the sentry spoke back, then flipped back to his previous channel.

"This is Maxin, we're pushing forward on five."

The sentries inside nodded to each other, and put their hands on their weapons.

"Hold back hold back, I'm not liking this. They're moving wrong."

"We're here, Captain, we're taking it. You can yell at us later."

"Hold back, soldier!"

"We're taking it! In five, count starting."

Time slowed down to a leisurely pace for Irvine, as he gazed down the scopes into the den of the enemy. He had a perfectly clear view of the scene, down to the time on the watch on one of the guy's wrists, the calendar on the wall, the numbers on the radios.

The same numbers that were on the SeeDs' radios.

He grabbed for his comm so fast it broke off his coat. "Cancel! Cancel, get the hell out! They're listening in! Get the hell… oh Hyne no. Oh Hyne oh Hyne no."

* * *

_The cloud moves…

* * *

_

The grenade finished shredding the ground, and the debris clattered to the asphalt. The smoke drifted in yellow haze, softly thinning as the dust settled.

Irvine popped his head over the rim of the stones and shot the double fingers. "You missed, numbnuts!" Then he ducked back down and crouched to wait out the renewed barrage of bullets.

_They'd be kicking themselves if they knew they're wasting the last of their ammo on a single unarmed man. Exactly as I want them to. As Cid sometimes drones, 'War is 10 firepower, 20 training, 20 strategic advantage, 30 dumb luck, and we make up the rest as we go along.' Ha, now he can't mumble about people not listening to him._

_What I wouldn't give for some backup, though._

_

* * *

Without you…

* * *

_

The butterfly demons hiding in the technicolor forest had, for the moment, wandered off in search of fresher meat. He opened his eyes to peer through the fever haze.

He stared, and decided he was still dreaming. Squall didn't make block castles in real life, did he?

The main book facing him was a romance novel, of the sordidly pink variety. A big strong man sweeping a long haired woman into his arms, to the backdrop of lush flowers or satin blankets. The book was upside down. It looked like the man was clinging to the woman to keep from falling out of the picture. For some reason, that amused him.

Squall paused to stare at the castle he'd built, then knocked it down with a sweeping backhand swat. He stuck out a leg to kick down the survivors. A mystery novel skittered closer to the dazed Galbadian. One of those with two kid detectives peering over a map, with a looming evil shadow behind them.

His eyes drifted the millimeter to closed, and the image stayed printed on the inside of them. What kind of idiot kids go chasing after real thieves?

A cool hand pressed against his jaw, and felt ever so nice. He'd forgotten how hot it was. He tried to say something, show his gratitude, but his lips refused to move, turning it into a murmur. The hand pressed deeper, comforting, then slid down to his neck, before leaving altogether.

He pushed his eyes open a slit, and watched Squall stalk to a chair nearby. Squall being nice? Yep, still dreaming.

He settled back into the lower corners of his mind and the technicolor forest, fetched up his butterfly net, and went hunting demons.

* * *

_The tides change…

* * *

_

Squall had brought 6 Cures, 3 Curas, 1 Curagas, 1 Phoenix Down, 5 Esunas, 18 Blizzards, 4 Blizzaras, 1 Blizzaga, 2 Deaths, 3 Silences, 3 Waters, 1 Meltdown, 39 Scans, and a hell of a temper.

He took down the door with the Meltdown and stalked into the movie theatre, gunblade out and poised.

Alerted by the racket, the renegades' sentry opened fire with his machine gun.

Squall cast a string of Curas and waited.

They ran out of ammo and Curas at about the same time. They stared at each other, the weight of the silence pressing into them.

Squall cast Blizzaga and strolled forward, smacking the ice statue with his blade. It broke in the middle, the split marked with red slush.

The sound of the gun had brought out the others in investigation. Eyes went wide and a few choked back shock.

_Heh, they recognize me. Been a while since that happened. Too long. Gotta do something about that._

By the time he was done, he was down to 1 Cure, 1 Phoenix Down, 1 Silence, 2 Waters, and 39 Scans.

After all, what the hell are Scans good for anyway?

* * *

_The boys run…

* * *

_

Irvine woke up long enough to yell "You killed Trent you bastard!", then passed out again.

Squall spent the rest of the ride wondering who the hell Trent was.

* * *

_The oceans crash…

* * *

_

"Selphie. For once. In your life. Stop chattering under gunfire."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but stopped talking and started casting. Protect for herself and him, Haste on the evacuating civilians to help clear the room. She hefted his nunchucks and prepared for battle.

Then the man stealing tart pulled out a semi-auto and things got interesting.

* * *

_The crowds roar…

* * *

_

Rinoa spread the newspaper out over the table and on top of his fries. "Okay, there's got to be a car rental listed somewhere in here."

Squall pulled his fries out and continued eating them.

"By the way, it's good to see you again."

He kept eating.

Selphie skipped in, hauling an armload of clothing. "Oh don't mind him, he's got mandala issues."

Rinoa nodded and flipped through the paper, hunting past the sports and living for the advertisements. "Wait, he's got what?"

"I know what you mean."

"Eh?"

Selphie stole some of his fries and all of his katchup. "Dunno. But some of the time he's all 'Grr kill baddies!' and other times it's like he's sleepwalking. Supposed to be something wrong with his head. Right Squall?"

He popped the cap of his soda and took a gulp.

"See?"

"Weird. Is he sick?"

"Dunno. So, how're things?"

"Do you really think it's right to just ignore him?"

"He doesn't care. Do you Squall?"

He shook his head.

"See? So, tell tell! It's been forever. You're back with the Owls?"

"Oh no, they disbanded when Timber declared independence. I'm with a new group who got together after the Quarantine. We're plan to cripple Deling's industry until they have to back out again. We're starting with the railroads because the leader says 'transportation is the lifeblood of a country'. We call ourselves the Exiled Renegades. Sounds really daring, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does!" Selphie whacked Squall's shoulder. "Hey you, help us look through the paper. You take this part, start reading."

He obediently opened it and focused on the first article. "Moomba Saves Children, Robs Jewelry Store."

She whacked him again. "Silently doofus. Look for car rentals, tell me if you spot any. So Rinoa, you're still with… was it Zone or Watts?"

Rinoa blushed and waved a hand. "No, I… I'm not with either of them, not anymore."

"Oh? You're seeing someone new?"

"Um…" She gestured over at Squall, and looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh right, you don't want to talk about it in front of the ex. Hey Squall, cover your ears."

He covered his ears and kept reading. Rinoa got a worried look, and asked something of Selphie. Selphie responded, chewing on her lips with a frown, then whacked him and grabbed one of his hands. "Okay, stop covering your ears."

He put his hands down.

"He's okay, though, isn't he?"

"Dunno. Gonna have to take him back to Garden, have them check him out. Squall, find anything in the paper?"

"Fiery Cat-Demon Steals World's Largest Ball of Yarn."

"Anything about CARS."

"Trade in Your Old Wheels for Store Credit."

"You're hopeless."

* * *

_The days soar…

* * *

_

The cuffs on his wrists, elbows, thighs, ankles, and waist chaffed, but he was grateful for them. His skin itched in places impossible to reach, and ached from laying still, but the alternative was worse.

It was cold in the brig, and bright, and silent, except for the hum of the airconditioning and the shuffling of the two guards. He felt vulnerable, watched like that, without even enough wriggle space to turn towards the wall. He felt dangerous, to need to be watched like that.

He was a loaded gun waiting to go off, and they'd put the safety on. Thank Hyne, they'd put the safety on.

He'd never been afraid of himself before. It twisted the gut something fierce.

He didn't want to think. He was afraid to think. He might think of a way to get loose.

_I haven't hurt Irvine,_ he told himself. _Yet,_ he told himself. He'd hurt Quistis. He'd hurt Selphie. But not Irvine. Not yet. Hopefully never, now that they had him secure.

_Balamb doesn't have an assisted suicide law. Not that it'd cover me if they did. Maybe I can threaten the guards into attacking me. But… what if I win…_

He watched his memories of himself attacking Laguna, and Selphie, and Quistis. He remembered the rage. How good the fury felt. If he felt like that again, and had the opportunity…

He couldn't live tied up forever. He couldn't. Strapped down like a… he wasn't even human. How can someone who can't move or talk or feel be human? Maybe he could get them to kill him. But they wouldn't, and he had no way to make them.

The hum from the airconditioning sounded just like Time Compression. He wanted to scream.

They'd sedate him if he screamed.

So? He wouldn't have to think if he were sedated. But the guards were watching. He couldn't scream with them watching.

It ached all through him until he wanted to cry. And icy fear trickled down his nerves.

Maybe Irvine'd come for a visit later. Maybe someone would. Maybe he'd die alone. Maybe he could get the guards to talk to him. They wouldn't talk to him. They weren't allowed to. Maybe he could just scream at them and watch them react.

But then they'd be watching him, and he couldn't stand that.

Maybe if he just held still, someone would come give him a sedative. Then he wouldn't have to think. Then he wouldn't have to feel.

* * *

_The moon glows…

* * *

_

Irvine was next to him. It was good to see Irvine. Until he thought of what Irvine was seeing. Then he wanted to curl up and hide.

Kadowaki was pumping drugs into him. He felt drowsy and limp. They undid his restraints, and he panicked, worried he'd attack them. But no, he couldn't move at all. They carried him into the next room and onto a table.

Irvine was rubbing his arm, gently, warmly. He hadn't been touched in so long. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't move.

* * *

_The river flows…

* * *

_

Oh Hyne.

_Oh Hyne._

You…

_You were…_

You wanted…

_Paperclip!_

So much rage…

_You were looking out for me…_

Rinoa?

_And Wena…_

So much blood…

_And Selphie…_

(Focus, boys. We're not through yet.)

* * *

_But I'd die_

_without you…

* * *

_

They lay in bed, curled up in the blankets to ward off the winter chill, lazy and sensual after a long lovemaking.

He screamed in denial as the blade tore through his lover.

He choked back a laugh as his lover cracked a grin.

They raced through the underbrush, weapons ready, eyes searching for the camouflaged targets.

They sat together in silence as they worked, splitting the tax papers between them.

He held his lover's hand as they gave CPR one last try.

They made out in the broom closet, heavy with lust and the heat itch.

They danced in the starlit quiet of their apartment, making up their own music.

They held each other as the night terrors gripped them, waiting for dawn.

They held fast to each other, and nothing would ever separate them again.

* * *

_Life goes on_

_but I'm gone…_

'_Cause I'd die_

_without you…

* * *

_

(Boys? Boys…Squall Irvine, pull it together.)

E_h_?

(Oh come on it wasn't that bad.)

_It_ was_ screaming_ torment,_ thank_ you _very_ much.

_(They're not going to stick like that, are they?)_

(Don't be ridiculous. Look, they're already separating a bit.)

"Frrdja sebaoudeem?"

_Everything's shaking._

It's okay. It's okay, right?

(Should be. Take a moment to adjust.)

Wait. Which one am I? Fuck! Which one am I?!

(I think you're Squall. Wait, no… it's so difficult to tell now. Don't worry, it should fix itself if you'll just relax and give it a minute.)

_Am I… am I dead?_

_(No, love, you're not dead. This one's Squall.)_

(And that would make this one Irvine. Oh good, he lived.)

Oh good! Come here you fluff brained candlegoat I'm going to rip your horns off!

"Gyo fyerfyer rimofg."

_Do you know what he's saying?_

No, do you?

:P

_Well, I know what that means._

(IF EVERYONE… would just RELAX for a minute… oy. Things would sort themselves out.)

(_Chill yourself, firebrain, you're giving me a headache.)_

Did it… work? Something… the thing, did it work?

_Well, I'm still here. Wait, I'm not Irvine. You're still here. You're alive! Oh thank Hyne._

Thank me, I'm the one who did the living. It's so bloody cold in here.

_So, now what?_

(Now you wake up.)

* * *

Author's Notes – Whoo boy, lemme think. Um, NSAID is the active ingredient in painkillers. I've decided 1 gil 1 cent (making it similar to yen), since a tank of gas in the game cost 3,000 gil. So, 2k gil is $20, and 8k is $80. My spell checker insists koi isn't a word. A combo rock skipper and armor fish, or alternatively, poppin' imp and rolling logs (Galbadian code), is a SeeD manuever where the troops take turns advancing and covering the advancer, using terrain cover and keeping a tight formation for better defense. Best used in a staggered, tight terrain, such as a rubble filled sidestreet. I own both the romance and mystery novel described, and they're both rubbish. No, I won't explain this chapter. If it doesn't make sense, just think of it as a head trip. Bonus points if you recognize the song. 


	30. Ch 30 Of Burn Cream, Blackmail, Braille

Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 30 "Of Burn Cream, Blackmail, and Braille"

* * *

By the time the dizziness faded enough for him to recognize the ceiling, he was feeling pretty good. Damn good, actually. Fluffy. 

He wanted to wriggle around on the soft carpet like a kitten, or maybe curl up for a nap. Or just grin himself silly. Or purr. Life was good. He was good. Satirical musicals were good.

Though he could've sworn he didn't think so a few days ago.

And there was Irvine! Five feet away, on his back with a glazed expression, easy to reach. Oh, he could do things with Irvine. To Irvine. Heheh.

He scooted over to Irvine and cuddled up next to his side. An arm wrapped itself limply around his back, weak but warm.

Yeah, nice and fluffy.

Off in the distance, he could vaguely make out the doc, writing in her notepad. She was speaking, something about positive results and resting until the aftereffects faded. She probably wasn't talking to him, so he blissfully tucked his head into the sniper's shoulder and settled in for a nap.

Except Irvine's fingers were doing very interesting things to the small of his back, and suddenly he wasn't so keen on being idle.

The doc made more sounds when they started kissing, then she left the room. Irvine barely moved his lips, but he was the first to use tongue, so Squall wasn't worried about him not being interested.

Everything felt nummy. He wanted to test this theory. Kissing, yep, felt nummy. Licking, oh yeah, nummy. Biting, so-so, less nummy more warm. Fingers rubbing his back, very nice and tickling. Fingers on his shoulder, just as good. Chest rubbing against Irvine's, pretty nice, could be better if there weren't any shirts. Darn it all, this could be a lot more fun if Irvine would do more than just lay there.

He poked the cowboy's shoulder. "Hey, move."

The cowboy blinked. "Can't. Tired."

Squall pondered this. "So… I should move?"

The cowboy managed a shrug.

So Squall licked the areas he could reach, because he'd decided he rather liked the licking part.

Ha, Irvine lied. At least one part of him was moving. Hm, wonder if he could lick it. Have to get rid of some clothing first.

"You… are one snuggly Squall."

"Mmhmm. Can I take your pants off?"

"…Sure."

"Really?"

"What the hell."

Off with the pants!

By the time he got them removed, he wasn't so very fuzzy anymore, and took a longer look at Irvine. The guy was clearly exhausted, dazed, and unwilling to move more than necessary, but a weary smile and other obvious body features said he was still interested.

"You sure? Want to wait until you're doing better?"

"Months? Hell no. Feels nice. Have fun."

Fun was good. Good was fun. Squall was drunk. Ish. Something. Drugs? Infirmary. Doc? Irvine. Kissing! Kissing good. Licking good! Ooh, no pants.

The cowboy made interesting grunts as Squall licked a path down his chest, and briefly checked to see what bellybutton tasted like. He got lint on his tongue for his trouble, and spat it out. Ick. But the hips looked ever so curvy, and he eagerly took up the hunt again.

Hm, Irvine wasn't the only one moving. He had a little issue of his own that was insisting on removal of pants. It was a crime; there must be no pants! He fumbled with his first belt and, after much struggle, valiantly slung it off and waved it smugly.

Irvine grinned lazily. "You're silly."

Yeah, he was kinda silly. Maybe a little too much. He frowned, and shook his head, dashing a little of the fuzziness. "Too much?"

"Meh."

"Meh. What's meh?" This was… not wrong. Not wrong, not close. Off, weird, different. He wanted, Irvine wanted, but he usually wasn't… but it felt so right. He was…

…Trying to give Irvine a blowjob on the floor of the infirmary.

Fuck. Where was Kadowaki? He hauled himself to a stand using a nearby counter, and noticed for the first time that his legs felt like water.

Irvine strongly disagreed with him standing up, and weakly snagged his pants cuff. "Come back here."

He looked down, and…

_Irvine is… really… sexy…_

He didn't think he'd noticed before. Well, yeah, he'd known that Irvine was very attractive "for a guy" and the girls seemed to like him, and he was aggravatingly confidant in his charms, but Squall would look at the gunner and see "Irvine". If he pushed himself, he'd see "Galbadian", "tall", and "damn hat", which was currently propped up on a chair in the corner. "Irvine" was usually enough, and brought with it plenty of nice sensations. But he'd never actually _looked_ before.

Irvine was stretched out on the floor, pantless, vest unbuttoned, lean and sultry, squinting up at him with those long thin eyebrows quirked ever so slightly, in a gesture of amusement and concern and skepticism and arrogance and caring that was Irvine's and Irvine's alone. Damn if he didn't have long fingers. Looked like a bloody lemur. Fit him, though. Long hands, long arms, long legs, looked like a bloody stork. How did he make it seem natural? And how did he get his back to twist like that?

The gunner saw him looking, and smirked, the fainted hint of a twitch of the lips that said all it needed to.

"Squall?"

Damn. Had his name ever been that erotic before? He licked his lips, and realized they had dried out.

"Mind if I fuck you?"

Irvine snorted, still smiling. "Feel free. 'Bout damn time, if you ask me."

The rest of the belts came off fast, though they put up a brave fight and gave him a few welts as he snapped them off too quickly. Pants came off, and flung across the room, and damn if Irvine's eyes didn't dilate at that.

Recalling the last time they'd been like this brought up an important reminder. "Hey, we got anything like that conditioner?"

The cowboy rolled his eyes. "We're in a medic bay. There's got to be a hundred and one ointments in this room that'll serve. Try that cabinet."

"Where?"

"There. Over… that way to the left. Says niks something."

It actually said "Skin Treatments". Rooting through it located a fat jar of burn cream that looked fairly gooey. Then his legs gave out and he had to crawl back to deliver his prize.

* * *

It was a conundrum to say the least. 

The door said "Surgery – Do Not Enter". It said it on a laminated sign with crisp, clear printer lettering, size 48, font Rockwell. Usually when Kadowaki put out The Sign, it meant heaps of trouble for the poor soul who didn't pay heed.

But, Irvine was in there. And the wedding was in six hours.

She had her dress and flowers and honeymoon champagne ready and everything.

But Irvine was behind the door that said she couldn't come in.

And he wasn't answering his cell again.

Maybe if she knocked? No, Quistis had said that might throw off the surgeon's concentration. Last time someone had knocked during surgery, they'd had spent the next week polishing the atrium floor with a toothbrush.

Maybe she could just poke her head in for a quick moment, see if it was alright. As long as she was quiet about it, no one would notice, right?

After all, she had to give him his cummerbund.

She clasped the handle gently, careful for squeaks, and turned it ever so carefully. Millimeter by millimeter, until the latch was past the doorframe. Then pulling the door open, slow as syrup, pausing at every tiniest creak.

She peered in carefully, ready to duck out of view if the Doctor spotted her.

No doctor, but there was Irvine! And Squall! Squall was up! Hurah! And…

_I'm going to fucking kill him._

Squall and Irvine were…

_I'm going to fucking SLAUGHTER him._

…In the infirmary!

_…Damn Squall's a hottie. I'm going to kill him. _

It was six hours until her wedding, and her fiancé was boning the Commander… er, the Commander was boning her fiancé… in the infirmary. With burn cream!

And she couldn't look away.

_Irvine never got that stiff with me. Oh fuck, Irvine's gay! My fiancé's gay!_

Her fiancé was moaning in rhythm as another man pushed deep into him.

_Sweet mother they're hot. Must take picture. Camera…have no camera. So that's how big Squall is. And look at the muscles. Irvine really should've taken gunblading if it gives those sorts of muscles._

_Though, Irvine doesn't look too bad either._

_My fiancé's gay! I'm a fag hag!_

_Squall's gay?!_

_…Wait a sec… what exactly did Squall need my shampoo for…_

_…Oh he did NOT…_

_Behind my back?! Oh, and all those MISSIONS, and the HICKIES, and Squall's such a good FRIEND to Irvine. I'm going to fucking slaughter them._

_Soon as they finish._

_If they ever finish. Wow, stamina. Irvine doesn't take this long with me._

_Oh jeez, my boyfriend's gay. I'm supposed to be getting married to him and he's gay._

_Maybe I can blackmail video out of them._

_Ooooh, Squall/Irvine bondage video…_

_Mmmmm. _

_Yeah, slaughter. Soon as they finish._

_So gonna make him pay for all the wedding purchases.

* * *

_

He could barely twitch, but Squall took care of everything. And his skin was so very sensitive right now.

His lover pushed into him, and was in his mind, and in his soul. He floated in the golden warmth, tingling with sparks, and happily settled in for the most mindfuckingly pleasant sex of his life.

The pleasure rippled through him, from the abdomen up into his chest and head, and back down into his hips where it pooled and focused. Squall thrust, chipping away at an aching need that had been hidden inside him all his life. He could almost feel Squall, almost be Squall, groaning and pushing, reaching for that pleasure spike. He whimpered, and it felt so good to vibrate with sound, and let it tremble down into his lungs and meet with the pleasure riding up, and harmonize in perfect waves until he thought he'd float away.

Everything was a rhythm, a pulsing rhythm of pressure and heat, throbbing through him. He breathed in time to it, his heart beat to it, he tossed back his head and moaned in time to it, and unending sound that rose and fell, cresting and ebbing as he rode the changing tides.

Squall's hot breath tickled along his skin, prickling as it cooled. His eyelids fluttered from the sheer overload of it all, and he thought, _After this, I'm going to need some serious drugs to reach this level._

His lover stroked a hand down his thigh, kneading the skin with his knuckles, and arched at a new angle, striking a sharpness in him that left him breathless and focused, groaning as his stomach clenched. Then down again, into the warmth and liquid gold like sun in summer, and his chest thrummed with the chords of it all.

He drug his fingers up from the heaviness and flicked them across Squall's arm, feeling the tiny hairs like reading Braille. He caught his lover's eyes, and they shared a secret look, and knew each other, and reveled in their moment.

_I guess eventually it'll have to end. With an orgasm, of course. And we'll never be here again. Never again this close. But we were, for a brief moment, we were. Luckiest bastards in the terra._

He soaked it in, and trembled as the world rocked, and they rocked with it.

* * *

Curled up on the discarded coat, Grrface pouted. Silly humans were at it again. And now that they'd taken back the older brother, he wouldn't be able to have so much fun. Much less play with his ball of yarn. 

Oh well. He could always go play with his sparklies.

Wait. This was the jacket. With the pockets! Maybe there were things to chew!

Gleeful as only a moomba could be, he dove into the treasure cave of the pocket with great gusto, and quickly found himself a tube of nitro glycerin to gnaw on.

The End


End file.
